Portrait of a Tragic Woman
by wellthizizdeprezzing
Summary: As a psychologist they tell you not to fall in love with your patients. And what does Hermione do? She falls for her most dangerous patient yet. Human AU
1. Chapter 1

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number One: What the Cat Dragged in_

You knew from the moment she stepped foot into your office that she was going to be a handful. She was a twitching, spastic mess, her teeth bared in clear opposition to you even though you hadn't even said anything as of yet. Dark curls precariously stacked on her head in knots, aristocratic cheekbones, red full lips and heavy lids over eyes flickering madly from your face to the wall to the floor to the ceiling, she was the very portrait of a troubled and deranged mind.

Her clothes were odd, a mix of different shades of black, none which matched. She wore a long sleeved turtleneck despite the midday heat of the Californian summer outside. Her black shirt too was long and stifling, dragging on the floor as she walked in, only the tips of her heeled boots visible when she took a step forwards. A choker rested on her pale throat, the gem at the very end looking to be heavy and straining her neck downwards. Her nails, bitten to the quick, came up to her mouth and she chewed on them again after she had fixed you with her best scowl. She had been shoved into the office unceremoniously by a younger looking woman with blonde hair now going gray in broad streaks across the top.

"Go in, will you," the woman pushed, clearly irritated. Her voice bordered on trying to be well mannered, yet she was failing to do so, angry undercurrents in it.

"I told you I don't want to be here Cissy," the dark haired woman whined childishly. "I want to go home."

"We'll go home when you finish your appointment."

"But I want to go home _now_ ," the raven haired woman stomped her foot and Cissy tsked, frustrated with her sister's antics. You get up from your seat now, figuring it is time for introductions although you already know who the two ladies in front of you are, just like they know who you are, otherwise they wouldn't have come here.

"Narcissa Malfoy, I presume?" You stick out a hand to the blonde haired woman and give her your best smile. She smiles at you and shakes your hand, coming closer to your desk in greeting. She leaves her sister sulking in the middle of the room, rubbing the toe of her shoe into the thick carpet and still biting her nails, looking everywhere but at you.

"I'm glad you could make time for us doctor Granger," Narcissa lets go of your hand. "Given Bella's reputation with past psychologists...it's hard to find a reputable one that wants to offer assistance."

You know all about Bellatrix's past with therapists. Her file is thick and takes up two drawers. She goes through therapists and mental hospitals like water running through a hand. She's well known in the psychologist community for what she does and when you first mentioned that you would be taking on her case you received an equal amount of warnings to stay away, laughter at your attempt to help her, and a shaking of heads at your naivety. But you love a good challenge, especially when you can help someone in the end.

You're honestly surprised that she hasn't been locked up permanently given her grievances but the Malfoy family has money and this is probably the main reason Bellatrix is still out there in society causing trouble. "And you must be Bellatrix Lestrange?" You send this inquiry out to the black haired woman whose gaze finally settles down on you.

"It's Black," she practically spits at you, her features clearly displeased but then her attention is off of you and away somewhere else.

You knew this but decided to gauge her reaction to her former husbands name. It seems there's something there that you will need to address with her in a future session.

"Ms. Granger," Narcissa turns to you after she glares at her sister sharply, not that Bellatrix notices, already mumbling under her breath about something to herself. "I know that Bellatrix is a hard case...but she is my sister and I dearly care for her. She was there in my toughest moments and I wish to be there for her's. I've heard the news-their calling you the brightest and youngest psychologist of this age. You've helped so many people. Done so much good work. Please, I beg of you, can you help my sister?" The blonde haired woman looks close to tears, so desperate she is for a reassurance. In her plea you can hear the unspoken: _Can you heal her?_ You know you are her last resort. No one else in the state wants to deal with her.

You nod your head, putting on your most charming smile. "Ms. Malfoy, you have nothing to worry about. I will do my best. I never give up on a patient."

"Oh, thank you. I was so worried you would turn us away. So many have." Her relief is audible through her voice and it touches your heart. No doubt this woman had a lot of horrors to wrestle with and had to have the patience of an angel to put up with her sister. "And I didn't want to put her back in the institutions. She only gets worse there. It's not good for her."

"I know. I understand. No need to explain yourself to me."

"I'm just worried is all. Some therapists tell me she should be in prison for all she has done but it's not her fault."

You are aware of Bellatrix's multiple law infractions and run in's with the authorities. It seems assault, robbery and general public nuisance is her specialty. "I am not like those therapists. I give my clients all a blank slate to start from. When Ms. Black will be my patient here she will not be dragging her past burdens with her."

"Thank you once more," Narcissa breathes out and clutches your hand. "Can I leave her in your capable hands now?" She looks you in the eye, searching for honesty in your gaze.

"Yes. You can."

She nods her head at this and drops your hands. She turns to her sister. "Bellatrix, I will be leaving you here with this wonderful young lady and she is going to help you."

"Just like the others helped me," Bellatrix scowls sarcastically.

"Behave," Narcissa hisses through her teeth like one would to their dog. It seems that Bellatrix respects her sister because she doesn't complain about anything more, just watches her sister leave. "I'll be back when the session is over." Then Narcissa closes the door and is gone. This leaves the two of you and you can feel Bellatrix's hostility even from here. The raven haired woman doesn't want to be here and you already know she is going to make your session a pain in the ass. But that doesn't deter you.

"Ms. Black, why don't we get on with our session?" You gesture to the two chairs set up by your desk. Their blue and comfy and help calm down most of your patients.

"I don't see what's the point," she says but stalks over to the chairs, plopping down with all her bodily weight. "All you therapists try to help me but they never can. And honestly, I rather like being mad." She twirls a curl around her finger and you take the seat in front of her.

"You like being mad?" You raise a brow at this. You've heard this from depressive maniac patients before. They love the high that comes from mania-they feel invincible, like gods, and so they do rash things thinking nothing can stop them or harm them and thus ignoring the very real life consequences that follow once they get off the high. You wonder if this is how she feels. You take out a pad and pen and jot down some notes. "And how does it feel being mad? Do you always feel this way?" Bellatrix was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mild form of it, but you want to confirm some facts for yourself, have your own diagnosis for her. You did say you brought all patients here with a clean slate.

She has other disorders too. Borderline personality disorder, being one of the more dangerous and harder to deal with ones and then intermittent explosive disorder which you must be careful to tip toe about. She has been violent with her therapists to such a point that she has hurt them. You don't plan on that happening to you.

Bellatrix scoffs at your question. "How does it feel to be mad? Why don't you try it sometime."

She clearly does not want to cooperate. So you try a different approach. "I saw in your records that you are no longer married to your husband Rodolphus Lestrange of twenty years. What happened?"

This curls up her lips in disdain and she slouches further down into her seat, arms crossing over her chest. "Look _doctor_ ," she spits out your official title like it hurts her to say it. "I don't want to be here any more than you want to treat me. I'm tired of all these doctors trying to stuff their bullshit down my throat and in trying to help me. And I'm tired of all the meds. So how about we cut a little deal? I'll come to these little sessions of yours and you pretend that you're helping me, while in reality you leave me the fuck alone. Then I can get to go home and fool Cissy into thinking everything is fine and dandy and get her to stop worrying her little head over me."

You let out a little amused sigh. There's no way you can let that happen. "Bellatrix you know I cannot do that. Your sister entrusted your sanity to me. I intend to live up to that promise. And I most certainly do want to help you."

"Bullshit. You just want my sisters fat stacks of cash. None of you therapists give a rat's ass about me and my issues. No one has for years except my sister."

Ah, right on time. There were her insecurities and distrust of therapists. She had had to been mistreated in the past by some person or else she wouldn't be so reluctant to accept your help. Perhaps in part it explained why she did not deal with authority well.

"Bellatrix I like to think I am not like other psychologists."

The raven haired woman snorted at this. "Sure." She changed body positions once more so that now her legs were hanging off the side of the armchair. You note her inability to stay still for more than five minutes down into your notes. You also add that the patient has not directly looked at you since that one time a couple of minutes ago. Her eyes always skirt around the edge of your face, never quite reaching it.

"Will you not even give me a chance to prove myself to you?" You allow a small pout into your words so that you can draw a more empathetic reaction from her.

"No." She is very resolute in her words and takes to biting her nails again as her gaze wanders to the back of the room and stays there.

"What can I do to convince you?" She is quiet after you ask the question. You wait a minute, two, then five. You ask the question again. "What can I do to convince you?"

"You can either take my offer or you can leave it."

"And what happens if I refuse your generous offer?" There may have been a hint of mocking in your tone at the word generous and the older woman picks up on it, her back straightening in ire. "If you refuse my generous offer than I can make your life a living hell."

She believed to have power in this situation. She was a bit delusional. She couldn't really do anything except physically hurt you and if she did there would be consequences. Instead of pushing it onto her that she didn't really want to hurt you, you decided to engaged her further into it. To see what really ran in her desires.

"And what would you do? How would you go on about it?" You lean closer to her turned away head, speaking in a conspiratory manner.

Her head turns to you, a confused look on her stately features. "How I... would hurt you?" Her eyes focus on you, confusion running in them. She has clearly never been asked this before so you decide to press on, thinking you're on the right path to discovering something new.

"Indulge me," you whisper to her. "I want to know. Prove to me how my life would become a living hell if I did not take your offer."

She makes several confused faces at this, clearly thinking it over. It seems none of her previous therapist's asked her this, opting to cover up or avoid her violent desires by telling her they were wrong and pushing that on her, rather than take them apart and understand where they came from and explaining to Bellatrix the root of each desire and then letting her see how wrong they were and why they happened and how they could be thwarted. You wait patiently for her, the small timer you set to time this meeting ticking away on your desk.

Finally she speaks up. "Assuming that I wouldn't get in trouble over the course of this process, I'd start by terrorizing you. I'd find out where you lived, what places you ate food at, who your friends were, where you worked. All the good details. All the things I needed to know. And then I'd shadow you, making sure you would never notice me. I'd take photos, leave them on your front door to see. That would get you scared, make you really feel uncertain." Bellatrix swung her legs off of the armchair and sat in her seat properly. You could see that she was becoming interested in this conversation now. "But that wouldn't be the worst of it. I'd start stealing your things. It'd be something small at first, something you barely notice but then I'd move onto bigger things. Like a lamp, a chair, clothing or a pet cat." At this you feel a jolt go down your spine. You have a pet cat but surely she doesn't know this and is just picking a random animal?

"I'd start leaving little presents. Starting with the dead carcass of that pet cat. And it wouldn't just be at home but at work. And eventually when you're super scared and riled up I'd finally show myself and beat the snot out of you." Bellatrix's eyes are alight with excitement at the thought of this planned attack and her cheeks are slightly rosy with her arousal. She is leaning forwards towards you and you have to draw back a bit. She is looking everywhere on your face but still not directly at it.

"Is this how you planned out all those attacks that you committed against your cousin Sirius Black and his wife and kids." It's not a question so much as it is a statement.

At this Bellatrix's excited look dropped away and she leaned back into her seat. You think she won't answer your question but instead she asks one of her own. "That excited you didn't it?"

"Excuse me?" you cock your head, unsure what she means.

"Me talking about how I terrorize people." She crossed her arms across her chest, a smug grin on her face. "I could see it in your face. Don't lie to me. It was why you asked me about it, where others didn't."

"I wasn't interested in that-" You stop yourself from explaining more. You can't let her know that she has bothered you with that question. Borderline personality patients often were hard to work with because of their ability to read their therapists. That uncomfortable feeling of being interrogated by a patient no doubt had caused many doctors to give up on Bellatrix.

"Oh you were~" Bellatrix sings. "Admit it doc, you liked it. I bet you've fantasized about hurting people for a long time. I bet you were bullied as a child. Never good enough so you put all your efforts into studying. You wanted to show them you were better, that you were smarter, so that you could win their approval and be in their social circle." Bellatrix is now looking at the nails on her left hand and you feel hot under your collar, suddenly needing some fresh air. _How does she know?_ You ponder as she strikes a nerve, the beginnings of panic creeping into your veins.

"But it didn't work out like that, did it?" She looks up from her nails and fixes you with an intense gaze. Slowly, she gets up from her seat and comes towards you, slipping a cool finger under your chin and lifting your head up so you can see her better. Her dark orbs are lowered and centered on your lips. "They only hated you more for it. They didn't want to be friends with someone so smart. And you were on your own again, and decided who needed friends anyways. All you needed was your books. But books can't keep you company and they most certainly cannot get rid of all the lonely pangs that you suffer."

You cannot believe that this woman has just read you so easily. In one session no less. Her ability is truly terrifying. "How-?" You croak out the single word, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being right but needing to know how she had done it so perfectly. You wish you could read people like this.

"Simple," she hums and her hands are now cupping your cheeks but you remain frozen and cannot turn away from her. "All the books in your office. All the degrees and awards you've hung up. They proudly proclaim all your achievements and knowledge. But yet there's not a single photograph of friends or family member or of you doing something even remotely fun. It's always been about the work. You tried your hardest and became the brightest and youngest psychologist of this age but in the end it still didn't get you what you truly wanted. And that was friendship. A person who you could rely on and who could be your confidant. All you've gotten from your hard work is empty fame and even emptier words of praise." Bellatrix's thumbs are now making circles on your cheeks and her face is drawing closer to yours as she whispers these poisonous words and all you can do is dumbly look into her eyes. All the knowledge and degrees in the world will not save you from Bellatrix now and you know it, but you made a promise to her sister and you will not withdraw it.

"And I know how desperately you crave people to talk to. I saw the way you were over eager to my sister. How you lapped up her attention and desired her trust above all."

"I wasn't-"

"Not that you were aware of," Bellatrix whispers, her face so close to you now that her curls are obscuring your vision. She smells deceptively good. Of sandalwood and dark berries. Your throat is dry and you drop the pen and pad from your hands, your hold on them weak for some reason. They clattered to the floor, ignored by the both of you as you dug your fingers into the armrests of the armchair trying to ground yourself into realty. So that you could push yourself up and away from this woman who suddenly knows too much about you. Your skin is crawling and your ears are burning hot in shame at having your innermost secrets aired out like dirty laundry.

You want to say something to bring this conversation back on track, to show her you are still in charge but then the timer signaling the end of the session rings and you jump. The spell Bellatrix has placed is broken and she steps away from you, twirling around on the balls of her feet to the door.

You angrily get up from your chair. How had the meeting gone to shit so quickly?

"Bellatrix-" you start but she giggles and flashes you a smile.

"Doctor Granger, I think I might have to retract my previous offer."

"What?"

"I think I might enjoy these little meetings of ours. You hide the dark well in you but not well enough and I'm interested in seeing how quickly I can draw it out. After all, psychologists are as messed up as the patients they treat."

Your nostrils flare at this. How dare she presume you are deranged like her! "I don't know what you are talking about." But the words sound weak as soon as they leave your mouth because you know that she's right. No matter how much you repress it, the anger of being constantly shunned by others has begun to wear on you.

"I'll see you at the next session." With a jaunty little wave she is out the door to greet her waiting sister and you stand there in your office with the merry carpets and brightly colored walls, with all your awards and neatly stacked books on bookshelves, and all you can do is feel like you want to tear them all down.

 **A/N: So what did y'all think of the first chapter? The idea for it actually came from the title. Basically I came up with the name first and the story just sort of fell into place by itself. I'm thinking ten or so chapters for it-that's the goal-but who knows how much I'll actually write. And for clarification purposes, yes, they are in California. Their American in this version because for some reason when I think of therapists I think of California.**

 **Clearly this story is an AU. So no witches or wizards or magic of any sort. I wanted to write a more realistic story. What would Bellatrix be like if she was human? Surely she'd be taken to get mental help, and who else is the therapist but Hermione.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number Two: An Albatross Around her Neck_

* * *

KSR- I've taken some psychology classes so I'm pretty familiar with the abnormal psyche. However, most of the story will deal the interactions between the two and not so much on the disorders although I will mention them. This story is more about the 'unethical' aspects of therapy I suppose and it'll become obvious as to why soon ;). Hope that clears some stuff up.

* * *

Your patient comes in the next day with her sister guiding her into the room by the elbow. Her grip is iron on the older woman, as if ensuring she will not run away but Bellatrix looks calm. Calmer than yesterday. There is still a spastic energy around her, like she'll run off any minute and her eyes rove all over the room, her fingers spasming and her neck doing little twitches.

"Good morning doctor," Narcissa greets, smiling warmly at you. You get up from behind your desk, a coffee in one hand. "We're back for another session. And I'll take it that since you haven't called me to tell me it's off, that it was fine to come back."

"I have no reason to call it off. I promised to help Bellatrix and I'm not giving up so quickly." Despite how bone chilling Bellatrix's interrogation of your inner most demons had been last time, you decided you wouldn't be deterred. She got lucky, there was no way she would get her hands on any other morsel of information of your private life.

"I'm glad. I just hope you don't change your mind halfway." There is a hint of bitterness in Narcissa's voice, wrapped up in fleeting hope.

"Oh she will, just you bet," Bellatrix mumbles, wrenching her elbow free of her sister and plopping herself down on the same blue chair from yesterday. "Now, are we going to start or what? I have things to do you know. Like pacing my room back at home and muttering under my breath, or going out into the streets and stealing candy from the children." She waves a hand in the air and indicates for you to sit down in front of her.

 _A cynical maniac._ "Seems someone is eager," you mumble, knowing full well where this enthusiasm is coming from. But you won't give her the chance to interrogate you any further. This is your office and you are the doctor here.

"I'll leave you two ladies to it then." Narcissa is out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

"So, so, so, what are we going to talk about today doc?" Bellatrix asks, much like a child wanting to know the answer to something. Getting to her knees and swiveling her body around so that her crossed arms are resting on top of the back of the chair, her chin parks itself on top and her eyes follow you as you walk around the room, making sure to set down your coffee cup and pick up a paper and pen to take down notes on. You don't want to sit next to her in fear that she will see deep into your soul once more. _Don't be ridiculous,_ you scold yourself and with a deep sigh you make your way over to your chair, reluctance dragging out your steps. She sits herself down as soon as you are seated.

Today she's wearing a black woolly sweater, the long sleeves covering her hands, and that long black skirt again despite the fact that's it's even hotter than it was before, the temperature's rising high into the 90's. Yet she seems perfectly content with her clothing choices. "Today we are going to talk about you," you say as you flip open the pad to a new page. "We're going to figure out any issues and help you overcome them."

"Boo, I don't want to do that!" she pouts, waving her long sleeves around. "I want to talk about your issues doctor! I bet no one asks you about how your doing and feeling. So let me do it."

You hold back a grimace. "No, Bellatrix. You're not the doctor here. I am."

"And you're a terribly boring one at that," she sighs and flops down on her seat, kicking her feet over the sides. "If only you let your true self out then I bet we could have so much fun. We'd be as thick as thieves."

"Bellatrix I am not like you." You shake your head. "How about we talk about why you're so interested in finding out more about me? Did you do this with all your therapists?"

"Oh no, I am not answering that. That question is only going to lead to somewhere where you wanna go. You're going to try and get more info out of me and that's not going to happen!" Hmmm, it seems she's well acquainted with the ways therapist use their words. Was it possible to try a different route?

And so that was what you set out to do during the session. But no matter how hard you tried to get her to talk in a roundabout way she would not budge and before long the session was over. Her sister came to pick her up and then she was gone.

You figured you'd try again next time but once more you got nowhere. The sessions gradually passed by and in each and every one she frustratingly managed to stay mum on anything she did not want to share. She grilled you on your past, you stayed quiet. You grilled her on hers and she stayed quiet. And this was the way it would go until her sister would pick her up at the end, signaling another one of your failures. You began to get increasingly irritated with the lack of progress. You had never meet a patient so infuriating. Usually they broke down in a couple of sessions but Bellatrix was like a seasoned criminal. And she was intent on making you break. And you were certainly getting to that point, you just didn't know when it would occur. You even absolved to trying to rile her up, to draw out her anger, anything. But she stayed resolutely her childish whining and playful self.

After the failed 15th session you could feel your patience was as thin as a worn rug. So when she came into your office once more with that stupid demand on her lips for you to share something, you threw down the clipboard you held in your hand onto the floor. "Bellatrix no!" She did not pause at your harsh words, instead sitting down in her usual chair.

"And why not?' she pouted, looking up at you through thick lashes.

"Because we are not getting anywhere! You'll never get better like this." You sat down at your desk chair, hating yourself for bursting out loud. But you cannot deal with this inability to move forwards or even backwards. This standstill was havoc on your mind.

"Ah, is the little doctor mad?" Bellatrix asks in a childish voice. "Did I bweak the wittle doc?" She smoothly gets up from her chair and before you can even comprehend it she has straddled your lap, pulling on the front of your doctoral lapels.

"What are you doing?" you hiss, fed up with her behavior. You can feel the cold of her fingers even through your coat. "Get off!"

"Am I making the wittle doc even madder? Hmm?" She hums and brings her face closer. If she gets any closer than her forehead will be resting against yours. Her inky curls surround you once more and so does her scent, deliciously dark and spicy.

"Yes, you are making me mad," you hiss at her. "Now get off of me before I call-"

"Oh I'm so scared," she mocks, pulling her head back, her eyes open wide in fake fear. "They'll lock me up. Feed me to the dogs. Beat me. Pepper spray me." She brings her face closer once more and you can't take it anymore. You can feel heat creep up your neck and you don't know if it's from anger or something else having to do with how she's sitting so unabashedly on your lap. "Maybe you'll have them-" her breath brushes across your lips and your hands move before you can stop them. With a shove the older woman is off of your lap and on the floor.

You immediately bolt to your feet, shocked at what you just did. How-how-how could you? This is so out of line. There's a sound coming from the older woman on the floor who hasn't moved yet. You think you've hurt her but after a moment of staring down at her you realize the high pitched noise coming from her mouth is laughter. Her eyes are screwed up and her chest rises up and down as she lets it all out. Her hands curl on her stomach in amusement. You stare down at her, unsure what to do. Should you help her up? You rake a hand through your brown hair.

"Are you okay?" you ask at last, crouching down next to her and offering her your hand.

"Oh I'm more than fine," she grabs your hand, sliding her cold fingers into your warm hand. Why is she so cold? "You should have seen your face. All twisted up in ugly anger." You pull her up and she twirls away over back to her chair. "I knew you had it in you. You've got quite the temper. I bet it got you in a lot of trouble as a child."

You frown at this. So it was yet another test to figure you out. "You must have gotten very good at controlling it, but you're not perfect." Bellatrix tsks at this, wagging her finger at you.

"No one is perfect," you mumble back. You don't feel like continuing this session anymore. You're tired and drained and upset at yourself for getting out of control. You should never let a patient drive you this point.

"Yes, but it's people like you, twisted and brainwashed by society that think they have to be perfect. You always have to follow these sets of rules, acting the way people expect you to. I don't see the world like that. Rules are fluid. The only thing that matters is being true to myself."

"And what if being true to yourself is what causes harm to others? You can't just think of yourself. You live in a society of people. Your actions can have deadly repercussions." You lean against your desk edge, arms crossed over your chest.

Bellatrix smiles at this, looking like she's holding onto a joke that you don't know the punchline to. "And that my dearie, is why none of you 'normal' people will understand me. You can't hope to understand the words I'm saying when your head is stuffed with the cotton and fluff that society feeds you. You can't hope to understand how I feel when I truly let myself go, let myself become one with this world." Now she makes a face as if she's pitying you and this digs under your skin, making you annoyed. "Are you calling all my years of knowledge, of studying the inner workings of the mind, useless?"

"You could say that. All your fancy degrees are just a cover, a facade that you put on yourself so that you can be accepted by society. Your true self is deep within you and I want to draw it out. Then you can be free like me." Bellatrix points to her chest proudly.

"I'm already free." You shake your head at this. "You want to make me crazy like you? I don't think this is how it's going to work."

Bellatrix hmms, low in her throat and casts you another pitying look. "It's a shame that true freedom in this world means being labeled as crazy." You feel like she is trying to tell you something, that she is opening herself up to you, but you cannot understand her in this moment, writing off her sentences as the speech of a madwoman.

Looking back on it, you reflect that it wasn't that you didn't understand her. You did. It just took some time to sink in. Some time for you to accept it. And when you did you knew she was right and wondered why other people had never realized this before.

The timer goes off and the session is finally over. You cannot be more happy to see her leaving. She gives you a jaunty wave, as she always does when she leaves, and promises to crack you yet on the next session. You merely smile tightly at her, hands in your trousers and let out a breath of relief when the door finally closes.

You feel drained; you want to go home but you cannot. You still have two more patients coming in today. So you plaster on the best smile you can and force yourself into a positive attitude. Unfortunately, you aren't doing a good job of it because your next patient, Luna, notices.

"And what has you all twisted up?" She asks in that dreamy manner of hers as she blows on her cooling Starbucks cup of tea, ignoring the fact that the lid is on.

Luna has been a patient here for two months now. She suffers from delusions of being a witch. When you first meet her she had tried to curse you, sticking a twig in your face and shouting out "stupefy!" over and over. She seemed to be a bit disappointed when you didn't fall down like she wanted you to. Her clothes had been eccentric, not to say they still weren't. However, she had come in full witch clothes with an owl on her shoulder, saying that this was expected attire of students in Hogwarts, a school for witchcraft and wizardry. She believed to be attending classes there and had been sorted by a magically talking hat into the Ravenclaw house, whatever that meant. You were certainly impressed by the extent and complexity of her fantasies. She could even recall 'adventures' that she had gone on with her friends in defeating this evil wizard named Voldemort who had no nose or hair.

You had encouraged her to write all these fantasies down, to help clear her cluttered mind. It helped with her delusions. Once written down you dissected it apart and slowly she began to notice that it wasn't her true reality. Still it was a rocky path and sometimes she relapsed into this world, especially if she had a stressful event occur to her. What reassured you was that she had really gotten into writing and she was quite the story teller. She would come in on some sessions with a transcript in her hands and you would read it, finding yourself amazed by the intrinsic nature of her characters and by the complex plot.

Still, there were other things beyond her delusions. She was mildly autistic, causing her to be detached from the world and from other people's emotions and the social rules they followed. Despite this she could really understand people for some reason. It was a paradox you didn't understand and trying to figure it out only made your head hurt too much to continue.

"I'm just having a rough day," you answer her with a small smile. You decide there is no point in keeping things from her. She would have read you too easily and you really don't want to be dissected by another patient.

"Is it because of Bellatrix?"

"You know Bellatrix?" You ask, turning to your coffee from before. It has long gone cold but you gulp it down, hungry and needing something to fill your stomach.

Luna nods her head as if the answer should be obvious. She is wearing a dress from the 50s, with a shimmering head band and a pair of uggs. An odd outfit but not the oddest. At least she isn't wearing the witch's hat or coming into the room riding a broom.

"Of course I do. I've meet her before. She's quite nasty. Be careful with her." Luna takes a sip of her drink, scrunching up when the liquid scalds her tongue.

"I know," you sigh and lean back into your chair, letting your head hit the back of it.

"Try not to let it stress you out too much. There's little to be done for her, so no one would blame you if you failed her."

You look Luna in her blue eyes at this. "Luna..." you say in a tone that implies you are not happy with what she has said.

Luna shrugs. "It's the truth."

"Still, if I thought this way about everyone that was difficult to deal with then I would have given up on you too."

"Yes, but I'm just plain crazy." Luna taps her temple with her pointer finger. "Bellatrix is something else. She's wild, but not crazy. And the most dangerous people aren't the crazy ones. "

You frown at this, thoroughly confused. "Bellatrix has several crippling conditions. I'm sure dozens of doctors cannot be wrong in diagnosing her."

"Or maybe they've over diagnosed her?" Luna poses the question and once she does it's stuck in your head and doesn't give you rest. You finish the session with her, focusing on listing how many delusions she's had in a day and noting with satisfaction that the number has stayed at a low three to four times per day for the past week. Back when she had been new here she had often mistaken you for a witch too, which you had found hard pressed to keep back a laugh at. Sometimes you had indulged her on her stories only to turn them around on her head with cold hard science. Then her facial expressions of confusion had been pure gold.

When you close up for the day, you head right home. You want to think about what Luna has said some more, the words not giving you any rest. You pull out Bellatrix's files, spreading them out on your table. Combing through them takes hours and you separate them based on similarities and on the disorder categorized. By the time morning comes you aren't any closer to finishing the task and tell yourself that you will work on it later as well. Now it's time to get some sleep before you have to go to work.

Napped and refreshed, you head to work with a slight spring in your step. You only see Bellatrix three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday and today is neither of those days. You breeze through all your appointments for the day and are already out and ready to go back home when you run into Narcissa Malfoy on your way out the building.

"Narcissa," you gasp, almost knocking into her.

"Ms. Granger," she jumps too, jolted by the close proximity of you two. She pulls back and lets you exit the building properly.

"What brings you here?" you inquire. "It's not Bellatrix's appointment day and I don't see her in tow."

"I am aware of that, but I was hoping that I could bump into you and thank you for all your good work by buying you a cup of coffee."

"All my good work?" You furrow your brows. Everyone of your sessions with Bellatrix was a disaster.

"Yes." Narcissa nods her head in enthusiasm. Her short blonde hair bobs up and down with her, her long earrings, no doubt diamond, follow suit. "Every time Bellatrix comes back from a session she is grinning from ear to ear. I think you're a good influence on her."

This takes you aback. Is this true? It seems unlikely, but how is the older woman having so much fun with your sessions? _No doubt because she finds amusement in trying to make me uncomfortable there._ Your shock must be visible because Narcissa runs a hand up your arm. "Don't look so shocked. Surely you must be used to this given all the successful patient turn outs you have."

"Uh, yea," you stammer, trying to cover up your surprise. "I thought it would take longer in her case."

Narcissa drops her hand, a small sad smile on her face. "It has already taken long enough for her to get to this point. I say it's about time." You nod at this, knowing just how long Bellatrix has been ill. Ever since her early twenties. And possibly even younger if she was left undiagnosed. "Now about that coffee...?" Narcissa looks at you with an expectant arched brow and you accept her offer. Perhaps you can gleam something of Bellatrix's past from her sister.

You drive over to a small cafe ten minutes away. The coffee goes by uneventfully. You observe the sister carefully, noting her mannerisms and expressions. She is the opposite of Bellatrix. And not just in hair color. Whereas the eldest sister is full of caged energy, on the cusp of explosion, Narcissa is the picture of poised restraint. Everything she does has been ironed into her. She folds her napkin at the same angle, sips from the cup in very dainty movements, sits with her back straight and chin leveled and is generally very well mannered. She reminds you of a aristocratic lady of the olden days, where poise and reputation were everything. She is like the golden child of the family; the model everyone aspires to be. And if she is perfection then Bellatrix is the black sheep. She is the one cast to the side, kept in dark corners so as not to shame the family. She is the child tossed to the shadows to be devoured by the wolves that live there.

You wonder how such sisters could grow up so differently. Did something in their past happen that had led to such a separation? That reminds you of a question you want to ask. "Narcissa, if you don't mind me asking, how come it is your sister respects you so much?"

This catches Narcissa mid sip and she swallows the liquid down before she wipes her lips and answers. "You could say that Bella has always been...fiercely loyal and protective of her sisters. She would do anything for us. She was the one who always took care of us when we were younger, healing us when we were ill, and made sure that we would stay in line and keep on track with our grades."

 _Sisters, huh? So there's more than just the two of them._ But you decide not to press on that matter yet so as not to alienate Narcissa. All would be revealed in due time.

"And now that she's the one whose ill, you want to return the favor to her and help her," you supply. "Is that why you have been keeping her in your house and tending to her? And taking care of all her bills and medications?"

Narcissa nods her head, looking down into her coffee momentarily. Her features are very well schooled but there is always a bit of emotion leaking into them that only a highly trained therapist can catch and you don't know if she doesn't notice she's doing this, but you do. And you can tell the questions are making her uncomfortable. Dredging up memories best left buried.

You reach across the table and pat her hand. "I'm sorry if this is bothering you. I was just curious. Bellatrix doesn't seem like the...sisterly type." She seems more like a wild criminal on the loose, causing panic and chaos wherever she goes. Although perhaps protecting her little sisters might fit into that, as she would get a chance to fight someone off.

"No, it's fine. I don't mind the questions. Anything I can provide to help my sister I will gladly do so. I owe her that much." This is said with a hint of bitterness and you wonder what happened in the past of these two sisters. The reason most people had mental illnesses later in life was due to traumatic events in their childhood. Not always the case, as genetics also played a huge role...still...

"One last question if you will permit me," you say, leaning closer to the blonde haired woman in front of you. "Did anyone in your family ever suffer from a history of mental illness? Sadly there is no family history included in the files about Bellatrix and it would help me greatly if I could know. So, is there anyone?"

Narcissa is quiet as she contemplates this. Biting her lip she finally answers even though it looks to be shameful for her to admit this. "This stays between us," she clarifies.

"Of course. I won't put something out officially if my clients do not feel comfortable with it."

This reassures the woman somewhat, so she takes a shaking breath and answers. "Our cousin, Sirius had some issues which were easily straightened out with medications and therapy on the regular which was kept off the records. The only other person I can think of is mine and Bellatrix's dad."

"And what did he have?"

"He...was never diagnosed. He was too prideful for that. But he was a very, very, very, angry man."

An angry father, classic. You can already piece together what their childhood had been like. And given that Bellatrix was the eldest she often had to stand up to her father to protect her sisters or even her mother. That put a toll on a person. And it didn't help that she too developed the same disorder her father had: intermittent explosive disorder.

"Thank you for telling me. It clears up a lot of things."

When you return back to your home later that day, you go back to looking at Bellatrix's files. You don't question the decision that the woman has anger issues, but as for the rest...are they real or was she simply deemed nuts? Luna's words eat at your brain nerves not letting your mind relax. You will need to figure this out and what better chance than at the meeting with Bellatrix tomorrow. You will need to plan out the conversation you will be having with her carefully. With that in mind you set to work. And you swear, that you will be the one to finally crack the impenetrable person that is Bellatrix Black.


	3. Chapter 3

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number Three: Idle Hands do the Devil's Work_

"Bellatrix, are you ready for our session today?" You ask, already in the appointed seats as Bellatrix strides into the room. You've noticed that her sister no longer has to march her in, so perhaps the older woman is truly enjoying these sessions. You're not so certain she will after today.

"Hmm? And what has you in a good mood, grumpy pants?" She asks as she throws herself onto her seat so violently it rocks back slightly.

"I've simply decided that I cannot avoid your questions any further so I've devised a way that I can answer you, and get you to answer me as well. Tit for tat. It'll be a nice end to our standoff. Doesn't that sound appealing?"

"A real tit would be better," she says matter of factually, making you momentarily question her sexuality. "I'm not going along with this hare brained scheme of yours." You had a feeling she would say this. But you are so tired of this constant beating around the bush that you don't respect her wishes.

"And why not? Aren't you tired of this going in circles thing we have happening? We're not making any progress."

"Because there's no progress to be made," she sings, twirling a lock around her finger. She slouches down so much it looks uncomfortable yet she doesn't seem put out by it.

You suck in a huge breath to steady your nerves. "Bellatrix, we are doing this. It's for your own good. I promise I won't pry too deeply. Just surface questions that you can easily answer. Besides, don't you want to hear about my past? Isn't that what you've been trying to get at all this time?"

You can see the cogs in the others brain churning in rhythm to how she twirls her finger in her hair. "But you're already so close to cracking. I bet if I wait another session or two you'll just spill everything without me having to try to get you to do so."

You grit your teeth at this, your tone of voice low as you try to keep your voice steady. "Bellatrix, I suggest you take my offer."

She sniffs but finally fixes her gaze at you. Despite all the time spent together her eyes never focus on you for more than a minute and she's never really looked you in the eye. A most strange thing. Why does she do it? Is it because nothing captures her attention for longer than that? Is it because she doesn't view you as an equal? "Fine then. If you're going to whine like a little boy who just got his favorite toy taken away then I'll do it."

You smile internally. Good. You got her hooked into it for now. Let's see if you could keep it this way. "I'll go first with the questions since I am the therapist after all." Bellatrix arches a skeptical brow at this but already her focus is on the carpet on the floor. She rubs at it with the toes of her shoes. Their winter boots. She's always dressed so warmly, like she can never feel any warmth. The last she touched you her hands were ice cold. Was it a medical condition? Was it a result of the medications?

"What's your favorite food?"

This brings the raven haired woman's attention to you and she arches both brows, which disappear into her hairline. "Really? You're going with that? Out of all the things? That?" She scoffs loudly but answers regardless.

"It changes."

"Why?"

"No." Bellatrix puts up a finger, wagging it. "You only get one question at a time, dearie. No follow ups."

"Fine," you sigh, tapping your pen impatiently against your notepad. "Go on then."

Bellatrix smiles and throws the question right back at you. "What's _your_ favorite food?"

You wrinkle up your nose at this. "Really? You're going with that?" You throw her own words right back at her too. She smirks at this and changes positions on the chair, pulling up her knees to her chest. "Answer," is her one word command.

"I like doughnuts."

"How utterly boring."

"I didn't ask for your opinion on my favorite food."

"It's just that you're so predictable. A simple person's answer. An answer that would get you liked by others."

"Let's not get distracted. We still have more to get through. We don't have time for snide side comments." You say this because doughnuts are in fact not your favorite food but something you adopted to fit in with others. Your favorite food is something a bit more odd. It's salo. Not that people would understand why you liked it so.

"The next question is: what is your favorite color?"

Bellatrix snorts out loud. "You would make a poor detective if you ever were to become one. Are all my black outfits not evidence of that?" she gestures in a sweeping motion over her body.

"Fair," you mutter. But you are no fool. These questions are meant to lull her into a sense of false comfort. Then you can build up to more intrusive ones in the later sessions.

"My turn." Bellatrix puts finger up to her lips and looks up to the ceiling, pondering. "What are your parents like?"

"Well, their both dentists." This throws you for a bit of a loop. You would think she would ask something about your childhood experiences being shunned but perhaps she is also building up to the more intrusive questions.

"How boring," she sighs. "Is everything about you this boring?"

You resist the urge to grind your teeth together. "I assure you I am not boring."

"That's what a boring person would say~!" she sings and you shake your head, moving on and deciding it best not to engage this certain pattern of talk.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"You mean beside terrorizing the people of this town? I suppose reading books or cackling with glee like a madwoman. What about you doc? What do you do when you're not helping out patients like me?"

"I paint."

"Ohhh, a painter. How tragic."

"How so?" You arch a brow.

"Careful, doc, that's another question. But I'll answer it anyways because I'm so kind. It's tragic because it must be so boring watching all that paint dry." Her voice erupts in amusement at the last statement; privy to a joke only she understands.

Your nostrils flare. She is not taking this seriously _at all_. Perhaps she never was going to. "Bellatrix I am not boring."

"And yet you have failed to convince me of that. Here I sit, in a boringly plain room painted with boring colors, answering boring questions about what is my favorite food or my favorite color." She waves her hand dismissively and rolls her eyes. That is it. Your temper wavers and you grip the pen tightly in your fingers, your hold white knuckled.

"You want not boring? I'll give you not boring," you grit out through your teeth.

"Careful there doc, your temper is showing." Bellatrix playfully wags her finger and you want to bite that damn finger off! It mocks you and the last sense of restraint you have disappears. It is truly astounding how easily your hold on your dark feelings breaks when it comes to Bellatrix. You could have the patience of an angel and still fail to cope with her. Lord only knows how her sister manages to deal with her everyday.

"Tell me then, Bellatrix. How's your father?"

You can see the impact of this phrase. You can see it in the way it hits her right in the heart, her shoulders locking upwards. Her legs drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Her eyes snap open wide and her jaw goes slack. Her chest rises up and down quickly. "What did you just ask me?" she breathes.

Bingo. You hit something and you don't know what but right now you are too delighted in your victory of shaking away her annoying demeanor to be worried about the repercussions of this.

"I asked you about your father. Tell me about him Bellatrix. How was he? Did he beat you and your sisters? Did you have to protect them from him? Did he call you nasty names? Did it make you cry? Did it make you hurt yourself? Make you feel like the _nothing you are?_ " The questions spill viciously from your mouth one after the other and you can't stop them, weeks of built up tension from failed sessions with Bellatrix fueling them.

Bellatrix rises to her feet so sharply the chair falls to the ground, her hands clenched and shaking by her sides. She is furious and appalled by you asking these questions. Her shock has turned to anger in a blink of an eye "What did you ask me?" She practically spits as she repeats this. This is when you realize you have fucked up. You set your pen and notepad aside.

"Bellatrix, please sit down." You raise both hands up in an appeasing gesture but it does little. She is already wound up and nothing you say will reach her now. Your best bet is to get the fuck out of here. To call for back up. Slowly and keeping your eyes on her you try to inch one of your hands towards the phone.

"I fucking asked you, what did you say to me about MY FATHER!" It rips from her throat and then she throws herself on you. "Who fucking told you about him? Who fucking DID!?" Her hands are around your throat and your own jump up to peel her offending fingers off. Her grip is impossibly tight and you can't fucking breathe.

"..." you try to plead for her to let go but nothing comes out. You dig into the flesh on her hands, splitting her skin with your nails but she doesn't feel it. She is towering over you and all you can do is sit there in the chair as she chokes the life out of you. You feel yourself slowly slipping down in your chair.

You need her to let go.

You need this to stop.

You need to _breathe_.

The edges of your vision began to blacken and you know you don't have a lot of time. Your left hand sweeps out in a wide arc across your desk looking for something to use. When your digits curl around a cool and ceramic object you take it and smash it against the side of Bellatrix's head. The smiling mug shatters into tiny shards and it breaks Bellatrix's concentration. Her hands slip from your throat and she stumbles to the wall, one hand flying up to her bleeding temple. She looks surprised that you hit her.

You drop the handle of the cup and double over in your chair, taking in deep shuddering breaths of precious oxygen. Air never tasted this good. Your throat feels like it is burning up, like your vocal chords have been crushed permanently. But all that matters is you're alive.

"Did you just fucking smash a cup on my head?" Bellatrix's shrill cry rings through your ears and you straighten up and give her your best apologetic glare. There's going to be issues with this in the office-you shouldn't hurt patients. But she had tried to choke you! Surely it was acceptable to do self defense.

"You...were...choking me...if you didn't...notice," you croak out, each word like knives. You wonder how badly this will bruise tomorrow. Her body tenses and you know what's going to happen next so you smartly move. She makes after you as you try to run to the door. You don't get more than halfway across the room before her hands wrap around your waist and tackle you to the floor. Your chin hits the ground hard and you bite the inside of your cheek as a result. Blood pools in your mouth. Bellatrix turns you around, her legs straddling you as she claws her fingers and goes to attack your face. You raise your hands up to protect yourself, grateful for your long coat sleeves. The bite of her nails are numbed down. Even with her nonexistent nails it stills hurts when she gets a scratch in on your face or on your neck.

"Get off me," you grunt out, smacking her hands away.

"Make me. Fight me," she taunts down at you and the words fill your chest with fire. Spitting out the mouthful of blood into her face, it causes enough of a distraction that you can overpower her. You knock her arms away, grab her by the shoulders and throw her harshly to the floor. Her head smacks it hard and she hisses in pain but you do not care. Your life was threatened and the primal urges inside you demand you to stay alive. Immediately she tries to regain her previous position but you will not let her. You are taller in this situation and you will use your height advantage. You pin her underneath the whole length of your body, pressing down with your hip bones in hers, grinding the jut of your bones painfully into hers. You grasp her arms and pin them forcefully to the floor.

She struggles and tries to toss you off but she isn't going anywhere soon. Her displeasure at this screeches from her lips. It's like wrestling with an eel, and it takes all your energy and concentration to keep your hold on her. At last she calms down but you still do not relax your position on her. She could try to make a move for it. Both of your chests are heaving from exertion, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and you wonder how loud the two of you were. If anyone noticed. It would look bad for your reputation if you were found to be getting into fights with your clients.

Bellatrix's raucous laughter catches you off guard. It rumbles out from her chest, shaking her frame. You narrow your eyes at her as she trembles in your grip. "It seems this kitten has claws." Her tongue darts out and licks the blood you spat on her face before it dips back into her mouth. This action causes your eyes to dilate and you suck in a quiet breath. "I knew you had it in you."

"I'm...I'm not violent," you breathe out, knowing there is no way you are convincing her. You just hurt her. If you hadn't been violent then you would have taken it. But all those years of taunting and bullying won't let you sit still anymore and take this pain. You're an adult, damn it. You shouldn't let someone treat you like this.

"Then what do you call what we just did? A friendly chat? A walk through the park?" Bellatrix's eyes are on you and you realize that this is the longest she has looked at you. Her dark orbs are swirling and they hold a steady gaze, unwavering and unapologetic. You stare back into them, lost, before you tear your eyes away and to the open wound on her temple. Blood is slowly trickling down her jaw and some has congealed in her hair. "I need to clean that up for you," you murmur, partially ashamed of your actions but also impressed-you got her good. How are you going to explain this to Narcissa? She had trusted you with her sister's health and this is what you had done.

You release your hold on the woman's arms and instead of lying calmly like you hoped she would, she grabs you by the shoulders and flips you around so that this time it is her who is on top. Before you can figure out what's going on, her hands have grabbed the top of your collared shirt and pulled on it hard. The top two buttons spring open revealing an expanse of your smooth collarbone. Her teeth find purchase in it and the bite hurts. You let out a hiss as your back arches upwards but at the back of your throat an entirely different sound builds up because of the sudden randomness of her choice of attack. One that is filthy with need. You don't let that one free. If you did then it could ruin you right here and right now. Instead you dig your hands into her dark curls and push her away. She sits up, looking down on you with arrogance and you put your hands on your skin to feel your throbbing new mark.

"Did you just bite me?" you ask hoarsely.

"No, I baked you a cake. Of course I bit you." Bellatrix snorts and leans closer to you, her eyelids low. "Because you are mine, Ms. Granger. Mine to toy with, mine to hurt." Her territorial whispers make your stomach do weird things and before you can push her off, she gets up, sitting down in your office chair as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

You get up to your feet, shaken and out of sorts. What do you do now? This relationship between you and your patient has gone places you don't want it to. You will need to redraw the boundaries. Does she have delusions that she can actually posses you? "Bellatrix, you don't own me." You remind her in what you hope is a steady voice.

"Oh I know," she smirks at you. "I don't own you yet, but I will." The assurance with which she says this makes you uneasy. But you figure that you better push it aside for now. The session will be over soon and you need to get her fixed before than. You have a first aid kit in your desk drawer.

How much time is even left? You glance at where your timer is normally on your desk but find that it is now on the floor, cracked. It broke in the struggle.

Sighing, you lean over to pick it up and set the broken remains on the table. You have no idea how much time is left-and there was just a knock on the door. You swivel your head with alarm to it. Narcissa is on the other side. You can see her through the frosted pane of the glass.

"Ms. Granger, is the session not over yet?" You freeze, at a loss for what to do. Bellatrix's failed attempt at stifling a chuckle draws your attention to her. Her grin is mischievous. "In quite a pinch, hmm, miss doctor? If you play along with me I can help you get out of this."

You can feel a bead of sweat roll down your back. You know you shouldn't take her help. It will only make her feel like she has more power over you but you really don't want to have to explain what just happened here. You would be so ashamed. Your perfect reputation cannot be ruined!

"Miss Granger?" Another knock and Bellatrix arches her brow.

You grit your teeth and clench your hands, the words excruciating to say. "Fine. Help me."

Your body screams at you how stupid this choice is but right now you don't care.

 **A/N: Salo is like salted pork belly fat. It was the random-est food I could find that probs doesn't get eaten a lot in the US.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Four: A Picture Paints a Thousand Words_

 **A/N: I** **kind of** **want to make the two characters have like a battle of the minds or something, like where they have to outsmart each other, have to know what moves the other will make before they are made. Sort of like a chess match. But I don't know if I'm doing it right or if I will be able to pull it off. Oh well, we'll see.**

"Please don't worry over me, Narcissa. I'll be fine. It's your sister who is hurt and bleeding." You are standing in the middle of the room, Bellatrix sitting and looking convincingly sullen about her 'incident' as her sister panders to you and not her.

"Are you sure she just tripped and fell and that she didn't...didn't hurt you?" Narcissa's blue eyes are piercing and you can feel the wounds under the neck scarf you you wore to cover them itching uncomfortably.

"Ms. Malfoy, I assure you she did not. She merely got excited during our session, started pacing around and then tripped over the corner of my rug and hit her head on the desk corner. Really, I'm worried for her. I suggest vising a doctor and making sure she hasn't hurt her head too badly." You draw the blonde woman's attention to the bloody desk edge where Bellatrix smeared some of her blood on it in an effort to make it more convincing.

"Yes, Narcissa, I tripped and fell. But it's alright. I am hard headed after all and I won't need to go anywhere," Bellatrix insists. You both tended to her head wound and were pleased to find out she wouldn't need stitches. Now she is holding up a bag of ice over it to cause the swelling to go down.

Narcissa clearly feels like something is off about this situation and you aren't surprised. After all, her sister has a history of getting violent with her therapists. The only thing is why would you be covering up for her when she got violent with you? In her mind it made no sense. But she thinned her lips and clutched her hands together. "Next time be more careful Bella. Thank you doctor." She smiles at you appreciatively and then flexes her fingers in a gesture that means she wants Bellatrix to get up. The dark haired woman does and together the sisters leave without another word. You let out a breath of relief. Well, that didn't go too badly. Bellatrix could have easily snitched on you and gotten you in trouble for attacking her. Bellatrix had attacked first but as the non-ill person it was your duty to act more rationally and you definitely weren't being rational in that moment. With an exhausted breath you plop down in your desk chair. How is it that Bellatrix's sessions always drain you so much?

You take out the first aid kit and pull up the desk mirror. You unravel your hastily acquired scarf and see that there are now black blue bruises in the shape of fingers on your throat. They look painful and feel even worse. But there is nothing you can do about them for now. All you do is smear a cooling cream that will take the edge off and pop a few pain pills. Then you put your attention to the bite mark on your collarbone. It looks angry and as you gently run your finger tips over it you feel...weird. Never before have you been bitten before and the whole situation had been so intimate when the both of you had been on the floor. And she had said those words, that you were her's...what was going on in the others mind? What was the point of this?

You sigh once again and dab at the bite marks with an alcohol swab. Done with them they join the broken shards of the porcelain cup that you swept up before Narcissa entered the room. Right now you feel much like that cup.

When you go home that day you immediately go to paint. You need to let out some steam. Changing into your painter's overalls you take up your brushes and set to mixing some colors on your palette. You start out with light colors, like yellow and orange. You don't know what you will paint-you never plan out what comes out. It's more based on the raw emotions that are coursing through your body. And right now there is a lot of frustration in you. But you try not to think about it. The good thing about painting is that you don't have to think too much. It's the one thing that doesn't require you to use your higher cognitive abilities and gives you a rest form your mentally taxing job.

You bring the brush up and begin to paint. You go with the background first, but a couple of strokes in and the colors feel off. They don't match and you add some darker colors to your palette. A lot of blacks and browns-different shades and depths of them. Then you get to painting. Your mind is only empty for a couple minutes. Soon the words exchanged during the session run through your mind in a never ending circle and your brush strokes are getting faster in increased agitation.

 _You're boring. So boring. That's what a boring person would say. So tragic because it must be boring watching the paint dry._

 _I am not boring!_ You want to snarl out loud. _I am as interesting as any other person around me. How dare you call me boring!_

Your strokes get more violent and you mix the colors haphazardly, slopping them onto the canvas. _I will prove to you I am not boring! You will see. They will all see. How much fun I am. How great it would be to have me as a friend! And they will all be sad they missed out on the chance to know me!_

You put down your brush, realizing that you are out of breath for some reason. Your anger curls in your chest and you want to punch something. You want to punch the smug look from Bellatrix's face. She stares back at you from the easel. Her chin is held up arrogantly, her eyes all knowing and her lips smirked up in a sneer. Her hair curls around her blacker than the dark and you take a step back from it, then another.

She's even poisoning your art now! Disgusted you throw down your brush and leave the room.

Changing, you decide to head down to the bar. It's a Saturday night and you decide to get smashed to get your mind off of your work. Off of a particular person. You head down to your favorite bar, one that doesn't get particularly full even on Saturday nights. It's mainly full of old men but it's perfect for drunken contemplation and besides, none of your associates at work will see you looking like a complete wreck. It might even be called a 'shady' bar, home to criminals and the lowest of society. With the all wooden interior, dim lighting and secluded booths, it didn't look to be the safest of places.

You sit down on the stool at the bar, waving to the familiar bartender Ginny. She knows you quite well as you've been a regular for a while now. "Mione. I haven't seen you in a while. Too busy to visit a girl and her drinks?" Ginny has a British accent. Her family moved here recently and she helps them run the bar after she finishes her classes at college. She has approximately five other brothers, but you can never be certain as you have only ever seen three of them. One of them is Ron, the youngest of the boys and the other two are Fred and George, the twins who make you laugh so hard your sides ache and drink comes out your nose.

"I've just had a new case I'm working on. And it's quite taxing," you sigh, sitting down, carefully adjusting your turtle neck so that it remains covering up your injuries. It wouldn't do well to have people asking.

"Why? What's up with them?" Ginny asks and slides you a shot of vodka. "On the house," she comments and smiling you raise it up to your lips. The first drink is always on the house for you. It's custom.

"Their very complicated." You are not one to divulge patient secrets but it's Ginny. She's a bartender and probably the closest thing you will ever have to a friend in this town. So you decide to tell her but to keep it vague enough that she will understand but not fully. "They have a lot of pressing issues. Like personality disorders, anger issues, the likes. And they don't see anything wrong with it."

"Ah, those are always the worst." Ginny shakes her head and goes to scrubbing some glass clean with a rag in front of you. "How long have you had them for now?"

"About three months. And no progress." You set the empty glass down and Ginny immediately moves to refill it.

"That's bad. I know that usually you'll have results for people in weeks. This must be really frustrating you."

"You have no idea." You lift the glass to your lips and down it. The alcohol burns but it soothes at the same time. "But I'm not going to give up so easily. I promised the sister I would help. That I wouldn't give up like other therapists have."

"I'm sure you can do it." Ginny smiles. "Just take it easy here. I don't want you drowning out your frustrations in a glass." She refills your cup again as you hold it out to her.

"And what's the purpose of a bar if not a place to drown out my sorrows with drink?" You arch a brow. A table of drunken old man behind you cheer at something playing on the TV.

"You're not wrong. I just don't want to see you being a hot mess. It'll ruin my image of you as a doctor forever," Ginny teases.

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind when I want to get drunk next time. Wouldn't want the bartender to have a low opinion of me," you jest back and take your third shot in ten minutes. You can already feel the drink. It stays hot and heavy on your stomach, sluggishly coursing through your veins. You decide to stay with a mixed drink for the next hour, nursing it sullenly as you pull out your phone and scroll through social media updates. You're quite buzzed, your ears buzzing and your vision a bit blurry on the phone, that's why it takes you a while to realize that something is going on.

There's loud shouting behind you and you turn around on your stool as much as you can without falling off and note with a groan whose there. There is a man, big and buff, with tats on his arms arguing with none other than one of your patients.

"Bellatrix, of course who else," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes to make sure you're not just seeing things. But no, it's her, and she's dressed rather...provocatively. You've never seen her revealing so much leg before, all her sessions lending her to wearing long pants or a long skirt that covered them up. She's shouting back at the man, although over what you can't really comprehend because the man is drunk and so is she. Both of them are stumbling on their feet.

With a sigh and a curse under your breath aimed at the woman who is ruining your night, you approach the two of them. Other patrons in the bar are looking at the escalating argument. _Where is Ginny?_ The bartender is gone. Perhaps gone to fetch her brothers to stop this. But you can't wait on her. There's no telling what Bellatrix will do given her anger problems. You will have to stop this from getting any worse.

"Excuse me? Excuse me? Sir, sir, can you turn around?" You shout at the man who can't hear you over the volume of his own voice. "Sir, can you-" you touch his arm to get him to turn around and the next thing you know your world has turned upside down and your lying on the floor, legs hanging over your head. _The fuck-?_ Your alcohol addled brain takes a second to comprehend what just happened and as you uncurl your body into a more natural position, the bar goes to shit.

After the man threw a punch at you, knocking you heels over head quite literally, Bellatrix took advantage of his split attention and kicked him from the back in the balls hard. The man went down to his knees with a groan before she round house kicked him in the back of his head with her heels, knocking out a tooth as he hit the floor hard with his face. The other patrons, sensing blood, jump to their feet and start rushing at each other, grabbing and punching at whatever they can. And you are right in the middle of all this. You raise your hands over your head as they collide like two opposing factions of an army, praying that they won't crush you in this mad stampede.

"Oh god, oh god," you groan. _Fucking Bellatrix starting shit!_

You feel a hand on your shoulder helping you up and notice it's Bellatrix, her face open in wild delight. "Bellatrix!" you stutter out, ready to admonish her but she pulls you along, out of the crowd of fighting men, ducking as wild arms fly past her head.

There's a gun shot, and you think it must be the Weasley family trying to calm down the animal like crowd but you don't have time to check because the both of you are outside, the air cool on your wet face. You bring an arm up and see that there's blood on your fingertips. "That motherfucker hit me. He hit me," you say, surprised by this development. It hurts and you know that you're going to have a bruised lip tomorrow.

Bellatrix laughs next to you. She's pulling your hand and leading you down a busy night street, but to where you do not know. People are either too drunk to pay attention to the two of you, or just don't care why you look like shit. "You should have seen how you flew. It was some shit out of an action film." Her laughter makes this more embarrassing and you scowl at the back of her head.

"I'm glad I could provide some entertainment for you," you mutter out. "What were you even doing at the bar?" Both are you are walking at a brisk pace, crossing streets and not waiting for the light to change to do so.

"Getting plastered. What else? Or am I not allowed to?" She casts a look at you, her lips twisted up in amusement. Their painted a ruby red and it reminds you of the color of the poisonous apple that Snow White ate.

"You're not supposed to, it's a bad idea because it interferes with your meds. And you'll lose control like you did now and beat up and hurt people."

Bellatrix shrugs. She has pulled the both of you into a small park out of the way of the main street in the downtown area. One that you've never been to before. She tugs you down to a bench by a small pond and the two of you sit. The quiet here is soothing. Different from the chaos you just escaped from. Your heart is pounding in your ears, and adrenaline still pumps in your veins.

"What are we doing here?" you ask her. She has spread herself out on the bench despite the fact that she is wearing a dress and is exposing herself. You frown and push her legs together. She shoots you a look but you ignore it. "We're relaxing here. I come here to enjoy the nature sometimes. It really puts my mind at easy when nothing else does." Her gaze goes out to the water and it truly looks nice, the way the moon is reflecting in it.

You hum but don't respond. You follow her gaze until the trickle of blood reminds you you are hurt. "I have to get some band-aids," you reach for your bag when you realize you don't have it. You must have left it back at the bar. "Fuck!" you swear out loud. "I don't have my bag!" That means you left the keys behind, and your phone and your wallet. How were you going to get home now? The bar was probably already closed down. This was all Bellatrix's fault. If only she didn't start the fight then you wouldn't have left it behind. You get up to go but a hand on your wrist stops you. It's her hand and it's warm for once.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to go back to the bar, because my purse is there. Maybe if I yell and pound loud enough Ginny will open the door for me."

"Alright. But you can't go around with that blood on your face."

"Well I don't have much choice, do I?" You go to wipe at it angrily but Bellatrix's other hand goes up to grab yours. She pushes your hands to your sides and then grabs you by the cheeks and pulls your face closer.

 _Oh god is she going to kiss me?_ The thought runs in your head and you swallow deeply. But the woman's lips don't meet yours. Instead her tongue does and it traces the blood away on your face, all the way from your lips to your chin. You screw up your eyes, fighting the urge to open your mouth and swallow that tongue up. The moment seems to drag out and you are aware of the sound of your thumping heart in your ears.

Then she is pulling back and leaving the park, not waiting for you. "There. All cleaned up. Now let's get out of here and find your bag before my generosity to help you ends." You let out a breath you were holding and press your fingers to your lips, eyes opening. _What the fuck was that all about? Does she have an obsession with blood?_ She had done the same thing but with the blood on her own face last time.

You follow after her, watching in amazement as she doesn't stumble or fall in her heels like most drunk girls would. Her curls bounce with each step and you want to run your fingers through them. As soon as you have this thought you scold yourself. What is up with all these odd thoughts? Is it the alcohol? You blame it on that and the fact that you haven't had anyone in your bed for a while. Shaking your head you run up to catch her. You get back to the bar and thankfully it's still open. Pushing open the doors tentatively you find Ginny, Ron, and the twins, cleaning up the place. Its a mess, tables overturned, broken glass on the floor and some lights have been knocked out.

"Ginny?" You ask and the redheaded girl looks up from the floor where she was sweeping up some shards.

"Hermione? Just the person I need. You left behind your personal items." She rushes over to hand you your pink bag back and you are so relieved you wrap your arms around her in a brief hug. "Thank you so much. I was freaking out. I didn't know how I would get home and-" Ginny laughs at this, and cuts off your rambling. "It's fine. I was gonna wait up for you to come back for it. And you don't have to worry about paying for the drinks tonight. I'll put it on your tab."

"Thanks." You blink gratefully at her. "What even happened?" You ask, indicating to the sad state of the bar. "Did you manage to clear it out?"

"Well there was a bar fight. I bet you got a first hand experience with that," Ron grunts out as he leans down to pick up a broken piece of wood. "I heard you got smacked pretty hard."

An angry blush settles your cheeks. "Yes, but it wasn't like I was trying to start it. In fact I was trying to stop it."

"Ah, Mione, always the peace maker. Don't worry, we don't blame you for it. Drunks will be drunks, besides we scared them so that they ran out with their tails between their legs." Fred waves away your apology before you can even make it.

"It was quite fun actually. Been a while since we had to shut one down," George adds happily.

"Yea, if I'm recalling it correctly, wasn't she the one who started it?" Ginny points accusingly at Bellatrix who was looking the place over by her spot at the door, enjoying the damage done to the place with an appreciative whistle.

"Me?" She arches a brow, a smirk on her lips. "I was as much a victim of it as anyone else."

"Uh, uh, you are not getting away with that excuse!" Ron calls out. "You ought to pay for these damages!"

"If you want me to, you'll have to talk to my therapist." At this Bellatrix slides up to you and places a hand on your shoulder.

"Your therapist?" Ron is confused but Ginny is sharp and she puts things together quickly.

"So you're the patient," she mumbles under her breath but not low enough because Bellatrix catches her.

"What? What did you say?"

"Just take her home, will you Hermione?" Ginny says. "And keep her away from this bar." You can sense the questions brimming from the younger girl but you can't answer them now.

"I will." You smile and steer Bellatrix out the bar.

"Wait, you're letting them go?" Ron cries out as you two leave.

Whatever Ginny responds with you don't hear because the sounds of the street are in your ears. The buzz you had has faded a bit. You want to go home. Your easy night out turned into a babysitting episode.

"Can you make it home by yourself?" You ask the older woman.

"I suppose I can," she smirks and pulls out her phone to call a cab. You're going to wait until she is safely inside before you call your own. Phone call over, she tosses the device back into her cleavage, where it seems she is keeping her essentials. You look down at your own chest gloomy. You wish you could do the same but sadly genetics weren't so generous to you. "And can you make it home by yourself?" she asks coyly.

"I can. I'm a capable adult."

"Are you sure about that?" she taunts and you snap your mouth shut so you don't say anything stupid. "No answer? What, no smart quip? Has the alcohol dumbed down your brain?"

"I just am not in the mood to talk."

"It's probably for the best. You'd probably talk about something boring anyways."

You turn on her, your eyes flashing dangerously. "I am not boring!"

Bellatrix raises a finger to her lips. "It seems that is a sore point for you. Would you like to talk about it in Monday's session?"

"I'm the therapist, not you!" You can feel the urge to slap the shit out of her, tingling all the way down to your fingers. You have to forcibly keep yourself under control.

Bellatrix doesn't answer this because her cab is here. With a wave she slides into the backseat and she's off. You wait on the street, making sure the cab is out of sight before you call your own. All you want to do right now is go to bed and forget this ever happened.

 _Bellatrix fucking Black. What an infuriating being._


	5. Chapter 5

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number Five: Fools Rush in Where Angels Fear to Thread_

 **A/N: Whoa, chapter five already? We're halfway through the series as it is. Unless I end up writing more chapters. Which it looks like I probably might since I haven't covered all the plot points I wanted to yet.  
**

 _I saw you standing there and I knew/I'm done for, it's over, I'm through/Playing games from the start/Sinking your nails in my heart/You bring out the worst in me: Unlike Pluto, Worst in Me_

"Ah, looks like the grumpy pants is back," Bellatrix comments easily as she walks into your office on Monday morning.

"I'm not grumpy," you shoot back at her, but you are in fact. Sunday you had spent the whole day going over her case files and each time you read it, it made you more depressed. She had a lot of law infractions, and you wondered how many more she had that simply didn't go reported because she ran away, like she had at the bar last night. She had just assaulted a person and caused property damage indirectly. You rub your eyes, looking tired and feeling even worse. You hadn't slept at all last night, trying to peace together if Bellatrix truly had all the disorders she had been diagnosed with. Despite what all the files said, and what you saw, there was a part of you that for whatever reason seemed to believe she wasn't deranged. Which was unnatural. And you had to figure out why Luna's words, claiming that Bellatrix wasn't crazy, were beginning to make sense to you.

"Mhm," Bellatrix makes a noise letting you know she doesn't believe you. "Did you have a hangover? Can the itty bitty doctor not handle her drinks?" She's mocking you now and you shoot another glare at her, wishing you had mutant powers or something so that you could zap her and shut her up.

"That's not it," you respond. "I'm upset at what you did in the bar. Did you really think I would be okay with it given how you acted?"

"I didn't hear you complaining last night when my tongue was on your lips," Bellatrix runs said tongue over her lips in unnecessary reminder and you feel a flush spread on your chest.

"That is completely unrelated," you are glad to hear your voice is steady as you dissuade her. "You punched a man."

"So? He was going to punch me, it was self defense." She folds her arms over her chest, kicking her legs up and placing them on your own legs. You brush them off with extreme force so that they thud to the floor. You get up from your blue therapy chair and pace the room. Bellatrix's eyes follow you. You are shaking with anger but rein it in. "Bellatrix we need to establish boundaries. I am your therapist. You cannot treat me as a foot rest, as a friend, or as someone below you. I am your superior and you will show me respect."

Bellatrix's face is unreadable before she too gets off the chair and comes closer to you. You tense, knowing that she could either flip out or leave this room entirely. "That's not going to happen doc," she whispers, her tone deadly ice. Her hand snakes out and curls into your hair, pulling your face closer to hers. Both of yours hands fly up to her hand, trying to prevent her from tugging further. Her fingers are so tightly wrapped in your hair you can feel the scrap of her nails on your scalp. "You know I have a violent history with all my therapists. Why you would think I would treat you differently is beyond me. You must be really stupid if you don't think I will raise my hand against you, if you don't think I won't continue to harm you. If you don't like this than you can refuse to see me as a patient. Because I will not stop on my own just because you want me to." This is hissed in your face, and you stare with wide eyes at her. You are scared by the viciousness gleaming in her eyes but you will not back down without a fight.

"I made a promise to your sister that I would help you. And I intend to follow through on that promise. I don't give up." You hold your voice calm and level.

"Then you are as stubborn as you are stupid," she laughs and lets go of your hair. "Let's see how long you can keep that promise up for before I break you."

"You won't break me," you state, trying to feel brave.

"We'll see about that." Her grin is perfectly predatory and you can sense the storm brewing on the horizon. She is not going to make this easy but you won't make it easier for her either. You are not someone who is easily pushed.

To say the next three weeks aren't hell, is an understatement. Bellatrix holds true to her words. If she isn't slinging verbal abuses at you then she is slinging punches, screaming or scratching. But you don't give in. Already you have developed a thick skin to her words. Her punches hurt a lot more but because of taking lessons in judo (you took some when you were younger to protect yourself from bullies) you can easily subdue her. She's strong, her delicate body holding a lot of force, but you can be stronger. You will be stronger.

You know you should report what is going on. It most certainly is not okay what's going on in your room in these sessions but you cannot bare to care at this point. She has challenged you, your authority, and all that you stand for. You just hope this will all end soon because you do not know how much longer you can keep this up. Her nail marks litter your flesh and bruises dot your skin. You have make up in your desk to cover it up but you can't fool everyone and Luna notices like she always does with everything.

"Things aren't going so well with Bellatrix." It's not a question, but a statement. She sits in the blue chair licking a cookie like it were a lollipop.

You sigh and brush a strand of brown hair behind your ear. "It's hit...a rough patch." You don't know what else to call it without alerting Luna to the true magnitude of it.

"I think you should dump her as a patient." Having thoroughly covered it in saliva and being satisfied with it, Luna takes a bite of her cookie.

"I cannot-"

"Your pride is getting in the way and I understand how important it is to keep your promises to others but you shouldn't in this case. She will hurt you Ms. Granger, whether she is crazy or not. And I am worried for you." Luna fixes you with her piercing blue eyed gaze and you swallow thickly. Fear blossoms in your chest at her words. Another one of your patients is concerned for you. That's not normal, is it? Should you really drop Bellatrix as a patient?

"I'll be fine," you say but the words sound false to you. "She's getting better."

But she's not getting better. In fact, her attacks are getting more vicious and it all comes to a head on Sunday night. You're at home, snuggling into your white fluffy covers and ready for bed. You flick the lights off and settle in comfortably. You knock out within minutes, so tired you are. But something wakes you up an hour into your sleep and you don't know what. You sit up in bed, your heart racing in your chest. Your eyes search the dark of your room as you listen for what? A sound, a creak of the stairs, a banging of the water in the pipes? It's quiet and you can feel your heart settle down. You must have imagined it, whatever it was that woke you up.

You relax once more into the sheets, ready to shut your eyes when you hear it, the rustle of fabric. You bolt up and turn on the lamp next to your bed just in time to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Bellatrix's mad eyes dance in the artificial glow and you have a second to contemplate how she got here before her hands are on your throat in a death grip. _Not again,_ you groan internally. _The bruises just went away._

You know there is no point in trying to rip her hands off, so you kick up to use your body weight to throw her off but she foresees this and sits down on you, forcing you back down into the covers. Your mouth gapes open and close in search of air you cannot get. "You think you're so freaking clever. You think you can overcome me? I will prove you wrong. You will die knowing that your own foolishness brought your death."

Her lips are flecked with spit and she looks completely gone in this moment. Her curls tumble around her face in insane directions and her eyes glow with the thought of ending your life. She is so happy about it, it's like a kid getting a present for Christmas. But you are not gifting her that tonight.

You blindly reach into your bed side drawer and pull out the pepper spray you keep there. Her eyes, too focused on watching your face turn blue, are unprepared for the pepper spray. She lets out a screech as the liquid touches down and her hands fly up to her face, releasing you. You instantly buck up and throw her off of you. She falls off the bed with a thud but she doesn't stay down. You race past her and she stumbles to her feet, blindly going after you, her eyes tearing up badly.

"Come back here!"

"Stay away bitch!" You shout and run into the bathroom, your panicked mind deeming that the safest place for now. You lock the door behind you and she runs right into it, cursing as she hisses in pain. Despite the absurdness of the situation a chuckle escapes your lips. She ran into a door, how funny is that?

"Open the door! Open it up right this instant!" She's pounding on the door, howling like a madwoman and you press away from it as far as you can, your brief spell of humor dissipating quickly. The door trembles in it's frame and you grip the sink counter in support. You feel weak and dizzy on your feet, your heart racing so fast in your chest it will surely pop out. She screams and hollers some more and you ignore it, wishing you had neighbors so that they could hear this and get you help.

At last she calms down, tiring out from all this. It's quiet outside and you finally slide down to the ground, heaving out a sigh. You need to call the cops on her. There is no telling what she might do. She could even set the house on fire.

Shit, now that that thought is in your head you can't stop thinking it will become true. You need to leave this bathroom because you left your cell in the bedroom. You crawl carefully to the door and press your ear to it, unable to hear anything over the sound of your breathing. It seems all is quiet. You wonder and hope that perhaps she gave up and won't be coming back.

Maybe you should wait five minutes more? Your knees are getting cold from leaning on the tiled floor and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You are wearing a skimpy tank top and shorts, entirely not appropriate for this situation.

You count in your head, ticking off the seconds to the minutes. On the start of the third minute you hear it. The scritch scritch of something sliding into the lock of the door. You look up and your heart slams up in your throat. There is the blade of a knife toying with the lock.

 _Shit, shit what do I do now?_ You jump to your feet, wringing your hands in panicked frustration and spin around the small bathroom, wondering what could possible be used as a weapon here against a knife. If only you had the pepper spray. But you dropped that in the bedroom too. And there is nowhere you can run, the room lacking windows. A bolt of inspiration strikes you and you rip down the shower curtains. Just in time too. There is a click as the lock springs open. With a rattle the door knob turns. You hide yourself out of sight of the door, holding your breath. It's like something out of a horror movie.

The door slowly creaks all the way open, the glint of the knife visible in the dark of the bathroom. The moment she steps in you throw the curtains over her head. She lets out a surprised grunt which ends in pain as you tug her into the bathroom, tripping her up on purpose. No longer able to see what she is doing she tumbles to the floor, hitting her head on the sink on the way down, the knife falling out from her hand as she cartwheels them around hoping to get a hold on something. You bolt out of the room, rushing into the bedroom, your gaze wild as you search. Your phone is not on the table tops, and with a smack to your own head at your stupidity you realize you must have left it downstairs in the kitchen where you were using it to find recipes on how to make lemon cakes.

You head down the stairs, catching a glimpse of Bellatrix exiting the bathroom. She's pissed off, and has removed the curtain. Blood trickles down her forehead where she cut it on the sink and when she spots you she makes a slashing motion on her throat with the knife.

 _Shit shit shit!_ You rush down the stairs, almost slipping on a step. You recover on the bottom, steadying yourself and losing precious seconds. You can hear her mad cackle as she follows you down. You get into the kitchen, flicking on the lights. _Where is it? Where is it?_ You can't see your bloody phone anywhere! And Bellatrix is here. She is slowly approaching you, twirling the knife in her hands and looking very pleased with herself. "Well well. It seems the kitten is cornered."

You lick your lips in nervous anticipation. The kitchen only has one exit and she is blocking it. Bellatrix arches a brow. "Scared?" she whispers.

"No," you whisper back, your voice shaking terribly.

She clicks her tongue. "Ah, the poor kitten _is_ scared. Don't worry, pet. I'll make it look like an accident. And I'll make sure to let your family and friends know about your untimely passing. Oh wait. You don't have any!" Bellatrix smacks the side of her head as if how could she forget something like this all the while a wild cackle leaves her lips.

"Fuck you," you spit out at her, anger churning in your veins.

"A little too late for that now, although if you really are so desperate for a fuck before you die I can gladly arrange that." She licks her lips and you lunge at her, not willing to wait around here any longer. Her knife comes up to intercept you but you are prepared for it. Your fingers encircle her wrist and slam it down against the kitchen counter with astounding force, maybe even snapping it. The knife slips from her fingers and you you kick it away and out of the kitchen. At the same time you are doing this the base of your hand connects with her chin, sending her head upwards. Using the momentum of your body you send her crashing down to the floor.

But she won't go down that easily and she catches you painfully in the crotch with a kick. Despite not being a guy it still hurts and you go down to your knees. She turns around, sliding across the floor in an attempt to reach the knife once again and you can't have that. You pull on her legs, nearly missing getting your nose broken by her flailing limbs.

"Let me go!" she hisses.

"Stop this!" You insist back at her and her foot catches you this time, right between the eyes. You blink away your tears, your grip slipping on her. She slips out and up, running towards the knife which has slid under the couch. You get up and rush full force at her. She crashes back down to the ground, face first, right next to the knife. Her right hand reaches out for it, fingers a brush away from the handle. In pure panic you grab the back of her head and slam it down into the ground. Once, then twice, then trice. She barely moans at the pain, her head bouncing off of the hardwood like a ball. It stops her efforts to reach for the knife and leaves her dazed.

You can get off of her now. You can drag her to a chair and hold her there as you call the cops but you don't. You're pissed off. How dare she come into your _own_ house and try to kill you! How _dare_ she!

You can't recall a time since you were this mad. You flip her around, her bloody face staring back at you. Her nose is bleeding heavily and it drips down her chin. The blood only pushes you further. Your hands circle her throat and squeeze.

"You think you can do this to me?!" you hiss. "You think you can try to fucking kill me and I will just let you do that?" You shake her head a bit with every additional question and her hands come up to your hands, but she can't peel yours off. You want to hurt her like she hurt you. You want to prove who is the boss here. "I'm the fucking therapist. You will listen to me. You will fucking accept my help. I swear if you hurt me one more time I will not hesitate to throw your ass into jail. Or maybe I'll accidentally prescribe medication ten times your regular dose. That will shut you up for good!" You're not making sense anymore but you don't care, just blabbering out random things. It feels so good to be the one on top. Now you understand why those bullies kept bullying you. It was so nice to have someone at your mercy. Instead of fear on her face, however, she is mocking you. Her lips are turned up in a sneer and it's like she's saying 'do it. Do it you big wimp.'

This takes all the fight out of you and your grip on her throat relaxes. She starts coughing right away, gasping in air. You get up, grabbing the knife on the way up. Your eyes land on the phone that is on the couch where you actually left it. _Stupid piece of shit, where were you when I needed you?_ you grumble at it but pocket it. You flick on the dining room lights and pull out a chair to sit on backwards as you stare at Bellatrix's form on the floor. The woman is slowly sitting up now and rubbing her sore throat.

You feel disgusted at yourself for letting it get to this point. She pushed you into letting go of your hold on your darker emotions. Revulsion threats to make you spill the contents of your stomach but the adrenaline rush that is still in your veins stops that from happening. You feel alive for the first time in a while and this concerns you.

"Sit down. We need to talk," you indicate to the couch with the knife and the older woman does as asked. "We need to figure out what to do now." You really don't know what you can do. It's all gone to shit.

"Or else what? You'll skewer me with the knife?" Bellatrix says, almost excited by the prospect.

"Your voice sounds terrible," you mutter because you don't know what else to say. She throws her head back and even with the blood caking on her face she still manages to look better than you in this situation. You're slouched down in the chair, face gray and ashen, burdened by this incident whereas she takes proud ownership of her actions. "Yours didn't sound any better the last time I choked you," she quips back. And suddenly you can't keep it in anymore. A laugh bubbles out of your throat and you laugh and laugh because here you are, after nearly dying and making jokes about choking each other with the very person who tried to kill you. Bellatrix watches silently as you let it all out. Finally when you calm down, your side aching from how much you laughed, she speaks up. "I'm glad this is amusing and all, but I'm bleeding over here."

This comment brings you back to your senses and you are overcome with sadness, guilt, shame and bitterness. So strong that it crushes you.

"Oh god," you groan out. "How could I do something like this. I wanted to kill you," you admit aloud to her and promptly break down into tears. Bellatrix watches you sob before she rolls her eyes and lets out a begrudging sigh. She gets up and wraps her arms around you as you dissolve like salt in water. Despite how dangerous those arms had been mere minutes ago, they now feel like the safest place to be.


	6. Chapter 6

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number 6: A Cat Among Pigeons_

"You know Cissy gave me an earful when I came back home," Bellatrix says. She's sitting in your office on this bleak and rainy Monday morning, the day after her attempt on your life. For whatever reason she lied to her sister, telling her it was a violent moment of madness against herself that lead to her hurt wrist and to the bruises and cuts on her face.

"Well that wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't tried to kill me," you point out to her. You're at your desk, tapping your pen on the top softly. You don't know how to feel about this whole situation still. You feel guilt eating away at your gut but you also feel proud that you stood up to her. And the effort shows. She seems to have a newfound respect for you. And she looks at you. _Really_ looks at you. Her black eyes bore down on you as if they can see into your soul. Which they probably can. And have done time and time before.

"Yes but you didn't have to fracture my wrist. Cissy was upset she had to take me to a hospital," Bellatrix lifts up her casted wrist to accentuate her point and you hold back the small smirk that wants to worm its way unbidden to your lips.

"Once again, you were trying to kill me-"

"I get it. Will you get over it already?" She waves her good hand dismissively. "It's not the first time someone has, am I right? That's were you got all your fancy smancy karate moves from."

"It's called judo." You clear your throat, uncomfortable with her spot on guess. "And I could say the same about you. I bet it was your father who made an attempt on your life. Several perhaps?" Two can play at this game and while you were a bit late to it you have every intention of catching up and wiping away Bellatrix's monopoly on the lead. The dark haired woman's eyes narrow in anger and you know you're right. "Let's stop there before we start trading blows again," you raise a hand to quell her fury. "I don't want to have to break your other wrist." This you say with a smug look.

"I won't give you the chance to catch me off guard like that-" she rises out of her seat but you slam your pen to the desk top loudly.

"You come to me, in the middle of the night. I should be the one caught unawares yet here I sit perfectly fine while you look as if you'd been hit in the face by a professional boxer. You have nothing to prove to me you were going to win in such a situation. So. Sit. Down. We don't have time for such things. I want to discuss with you why you broke into my house in the middle of the house in the first place. How did you even find me?"

Bellatrix sits back down but her left foot jiggles with barely concealed nerves. She swallows the bitter pill of truth you have given her. Her pride is hurt and you know she will get you back for this eventually. "You remember our first session?"

"Yes." How could you ever forget. The crushing clarity of her analysis on you. The spastic energy. The odd clothing she wore. The way her eyes roved back and forth as if seeing things you couldn't.

"If I wanted to scare someone I would stalk them. That's what I did with you. I stalked you, figured out where you lived and then picked a good time to attack." She spreads out her hands. "Easy peasy."

You don't like that it was this easy to be stalked. Didn't Narcissa pay attention to her sister at night? Have someone guard her or something? "How did you escape Narcissa's notice?"

Bellatrix raised her index finger to her lips. "It's a secret. Can't have you telling dear old sister of mine."

You shrug, trying to play it off like it's not annoying that she won't tell you. You knew she wouldn't, still it didn't hurt to ask. "I'll figure it out one way or another. I'd just rather you be the one to tell me."

"Then you'll have to figure out yourself because I'm certainly not telling you."

"Fine with me," you sigh. Then the two of you are quiet. You honestly don't know what to even say to Bellatrix anymore. You have won her respect for now but how long will it last before the peace breaks and she comes after you once again? Maybe it is best to give up on her like Luna said to do so. The violent victory while satisfying your inner animal leaves you feeling dirty. This is not the type of behavior you should exemplify.

The rain patters softly on the windows. You stare at it, the rainy world outside looking so tiny from the tenth floor of your office window. People run around with their umbrellas. One lady struggles with a couple of grocery bags and you create a story in your head about her. You believe her to be rushing home to her kids, trying to feed them after coming back from her long work hours. Perhaps she is a single mother?

You're so lost in day dreams that you do not notice Bellatrix has sidled up to your desk. She props both elbows up on it and plants her head on her hands. "So what are we doing to do now?" Her question makes you jump and you turn to face her.

"That depends on you Bellatrix. Do you want to make progress with me and move forwards? Or do you want stay forever stuck in this position you are in?"

She sticks out her tongue out this. "I'd love to smash your pretty little face right now for what you did to me but I can't. So I guess I'm stuck in the second option until I can move forwards with 'you'."

You feel an inkling of anger in you, also momentarily noting that this is the first time she has complimented you albeit in a sentence where she wished you pain. "Bellatrix you need to stop with the pain. It's not going to satisfy you. And no one wants to hurt you anymore."

There's a scoff, full of ugly emotion behind it. "Oh that's rich coming from you doctor. Who was the one who smashed my face into the floor not once or twice but three times?" She sticks out three fingers at this.

"Bellatrix," you begin wearily but she goes on.

"Who choked me when I was already harmless and willing to come back to my senses? It was all you!" She viciously points at you and you sigh heavily, the guilt resurfacing. "So don't come to me with the bullshit that no one wants to hurt me because you did. And you know why you did it? Because it was satisfying. Hurting others is something so personal, so utterly captivating of our primal instincts, that even the most peaceful man would like it despite his claim that he does not. Ecco homo." _Such is man._ Bellatrix has pulled away from your desk at this and is pacing the room. Her energy is everywhere. You can feel it crackling off of her like waves. Dark and powerful.

You rub your hands over your tired face. "So what do you want me to do Bellatrix? I want to help you, I truly do, but you are not letting me." You feel like you have said this so many times that your words are losing their meaning.

She smiles at this, something wicked. "First you need to help yourself doctor. Before you can claim to want to help me." With that the timer rings and the session is over and she is gone, her words leaving a lasting impression on you.

When Luna comes in next she notices your depressive state right away. "It's Bellatrix isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "This is meant to be your session yet I can never seem to give you the full attention you deserve for your problems."

"It's fine. I do not mind. Sometimes it is good for the therapist to let out some steam too. You cannot be expected to carry the burdens of all of us and not crumble underneath them. No human can do that." Luna's words are wise and often times you think she would make a great therapist herself if only she wasn't so odd.

"Besides, if you stay sad and depressed the nargles will surround you and feed off of your life force. So you have to cheer up quickly."

 _And delusional,_ you add to yourself. What the heck were nargles? It must be a new development. Was the stress of worrying over you causing her to hallucinate again?

"Listen Luna, thank you for your advice and concern but we are here to talk about you and not me. So tell me, how's work going?"

Luna launches into a fanciful and colorful story of her day and you lose yourself in it, wishing that sometimes you could switch places with her. Her life must be so carefree. She was oblivious to any troubles her disorders brought her and just went on with life being true to her kooky self.

* * *

You get home that evening and straight away change out of your work clothes which consist of a pressed white shirt, khaki pants, and your white doctor's coat. You instead put on a comfy set of sweats. _Much better._

You settle down for a good read on this cozy armchair and no sooner have you sat down than Crookshanks crawls into your lap. He is one of the ugliest cats you ever seen but you love him, him and his ridiculous orange fur and his broken purring. Your hand absentmindedly strokes his fur as you read your favorite book, Crime and Punishment. It is interesting to psychologically analyze the main character and his wrongful actions. Each time you learn something new you go back to the book to see if your perspective on his actions has changed. Your eyes land on a particular sentence this time around. You read it out loud to yourself and to your pet cat. " _Pain and suffering are inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart._ " You close your eyes on this. Never before has this been so true. Your need to be nice, to help the poor souls out there, has lent you more harm and abuse than you've had in a long time. Maybe it was the reason why you first got picked on anyways. You close your eyes and your mind drifts into the past.

 _"Hey, you," a voice called out to a young little skinny girl whose innocent face was ensconced by her unruly brown curls._

 _"Yes?" she asked, nervously as she watched the trio approach her. She had seen them around before-Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. Three kids, big for their age, and with ugly expressions on their faces. She didn't know much about who they were at that time. She didn't really pay attention much to the social hierarchy in school because she was rejected by all groups anyways. Too smart for the nerds, too lame for the cool kids, too nonathletic for the jocks, and too uneducated about being a girl for girl groups. But if she had known earlier about Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, then she would have stayed the hell away from them._

 _"I heard you were a little know it all," stated Pansy, the leader of the group._

 _"Uh, yes," Hermione stammered out, wincing at the hurtful phrase she had heard many times flung at her, and shutting her locker, shouldering her heavy bag over her shoulder. It was always full of heavy tomes, and they weren't strictly school books. She'd carry a bunch of fiction books with her as well to keep her entertained during lunch. She didn't have a lot of friends-scratch that, any friends- and so she'd eat and read in an empty classroom._

 _"That's pretty awesome," Pansy continued._

 _"Really?" Hermione's eyes opened wide at this. She'd never had someone compliment her for being too smart for her own good. Usually it was snide and jealous comments about her annoyingly Brobdingnagian repertoire of knowledge. Which bothered her more than she cared to admit. Her parents told her kids were just acting this way because they felt threatened by her, in awe of her skills, but Hermione didn't think that was the case._

 _"Yea, and we think we want your help. What do you say, friend?"_

 _Hermione's eyes practically glowed at the others use of the word friend. No one called her that. "S-sure! Of course I can help!" Hermione rushed to answer._

 _"Good," Pansy smiled and at the time Hermione had thought it was a smile of friendship but after a couple months she realized it was a smirk, because they had gotten Hermione where they had wanted her._

 _Hermione had been excited to help her friends but it had all turned out to be a scam. They just used her to do their homework. And when she had gotten fed up and stood up for herself, than the bullying had truly begun. And it had been awful. Some days she swore that she was made of bruises and cuts._

But that was what you got for being nice to others; you always fell to their ulterior motives because you wanted to think the best of people, because you wanted to be a friend to them and they to you. Still, it didn't deter you from wanting to help others, if only more fueling the fire to understanding why people acted the way they did to you when you were younger.

"How rude to fall asleep on your guest." The phrase breaks you out of your stupor and you open your eyes to see none other than Bellatrix Black in your fucking living room, legs crossed at the knees and looking as if she belongs here. You jump to your feet and Crookshanks dives off, hiding himself under the table.

"You," you hiss. A tear escapes from your lid and you hastily wipe it away but not before the other notices.

"Having a cry were we?" her hands are folded neatly on her kneecap and she's wearing a lighter shade of black. You shouldn't notice but you do.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" You point at the direction of the door and she smiles pleasantly.

"Someone is being nasty today."

"Bellatrix you are in my fucking house! You broke in! Get the fuck out. I will get a restraining order on you." You're breathing heavily. How dare this woman come back here after she tried to assault you the first time? How dare she intrude when you were having such a private moment? _Howdareshe, howdareshe!_

The woman's face sours at this and she looks over at a painting on your wall. It's one you've done yourself. It contains an image of a little farmhouse with a family playing out front. "A scientifically minded person who can paint such amazing things. Two opposing ends, art and science, they shouldn't meet yet they do. You make it work." She turns back to you, her gaze level.

"Oh, you're a piece of work alright," you mutter. "But not art!" She's talking about this relationship of yours, and you won't admit it but there is something tragically romantic about painting a lunatic on canvas. It heightens their passion and their pure abstract being that words or science cannot.

Her lips curl up in a smile. "Is that why you painted me?"

"What?" Your mouth barks out before you realize that shit, she saw the painting. You burst out in embarrassed anger. "Who told you you could go into my house and look at my things-!"

"I was waiting for you to get out of your little reverie. It's not my fault I got bored." She doesn't look the least bit apologetic.

You grind your teeth, wanting to argue more with her but think better of it. "I'm calling Narcissa right now and she is going to come and pick you up."

Bellatrix's eyes flare at this and she rushes out of her seat. She grabs your hand just as it is midway to putting the phone to your ear. "No." Her one word answer is a plea, one you do not want to respect.

"Bellatrix, you are in my house-"

"Are you not a therapist? Are you not meant to help your patients?"

This trips you up a bit. It takes you a while to respond. "Yes, I am-"

"Good." With that her iron grip releases and she scoots back over to the couch. Does she...want to talk? Your brows go up in peaked interest but you pocket the phone, keeping it close to you at all times.

"You know, usually people do this sort of thing in my office, not in my house." You sit back down in your armchair. Crookshanks clambers back up to your lap and you start to pet him again, the feel of his fur relaxing you.

But Bellatrix is not listening to you. Her eyes are on the book you were reading before, which now is on the floor where you dropped it. " _The darker the night, the brighter the stars, the deeper the grief, the closer to God._ "

"What?"

"It's from that book, Crime and Punishment."

"Oh." You frown and settle in more comfortably into the chair. "I did not notice it was."

"People notice different things. Things that are important to them and to whom they are. For example, ' _To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's_ '. I bet that quote didn't stand out to you either."

It didn't. "Do you truly believe that quote? That you would rather burn in a hell of your own design than to do good in the eyes of others?"

Bellatrix shrugs. "It means I follow my own path because no matter what I do on it, wrong or right, it will always be a better option than to be a puppet of society."

"I am not a puppet of society."

"Yes, you are. You follow their rules, their agendas. When's the last time you ever did something for yourself. And I mean _truly_ for yourself. Not something because you knew you had to, but something that you desired even though you knew no one else might approve of it."

The retort on your tongue dies and you think about it. When was the last time...was there even a last time? What would you even desire to do if you had the chance? "What quotes stuck out to you Ms. Granger?" Bellatrix asks, seeing that she has stumped you and wanting to move on.

This is something you can more easily answer. " _We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken_."

Bellatrix clapped her hands together in amusement. "And now I can understand better why you've become a psychologist!" She is truly joyful by this discovery. You hadn't realized it but now that she has pointed it out, this is indeed a part of the reason on why you wanted to be a psychologist. You've always wanted to better understand people and the inner workings of their mind so that you could befriend them.

That didn't work out the way you thought it would, however, as then everyone became too paranoid that you would read into their actions and find out their true intentions.

"Although personally I think you have other quotes that you like and identify with but won't share." She winks at you. "Let me see if I can guess one." She puts a finger up to her lips and rifles through something in her head. Did she have the whole book memorized? "What about this one: _Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart._ "

You jolt a little at this. This is the same quote that you like, that resonates with you on a deeper level. Bellatrix knows she has hit the mark because her face lights up. "Ah, of course you would pick that quote. How _noble_ of you." That word is mockingly said and you merely roll your eyes at her.

"And let me guess one of your quotes." She's playing a moralistic literature game with you and you are not about to lose it, despite it being mainly insignificant in comparison to the other games she spins. But your competitiveness won't let you idly sit by and not even try to best her.

You lean over to pick the book up and rifle through the pages where you last marked a really good quote down. " _When reason fails, the devil helps._ I believe that to be a motto you live by vicariously, no?"

Bellatrix's lips smirk up. "Old, bigoted, and feebleminded people would claim it to be the devil's work, but we all really know better. There is no such thing that a person does that can be blamed on a higher evil. All the evil we have is right here." She points at her chest and cocks her head at you, as if asking you to disagree with her.

Hm, so it seems she came here for a honest intellectual conversation; maybe not even a game, as this sounds to be getting more and more personal. How funny that a lunatic craves this kind of stimulus, much less is capable of carrying one out successfully. It gives you hope that Bellatrix is not as troubled as she acts, and that her recovery could work if she tried. Or perhaps the knowledge of all this predates her introduction of the mental illness, and she is simply regurgitating facts long known to her.

"Sometimes the evil isn't there, but here." You point a finger and tap your head.

"That's the psychologist in you speaking. Many people, ever since the time of the ancients, have believed that the heart and the soul are more valuable than the brain. That they have more control over the body than the encephalon."

"But that's because they didn't have scans or the superior knowledge as we do today on the inner workings of the mind and the psyche."

"While that may be true, I think they were onto something." She leans forward in her seat at this, her dark intense eyes on you. "After all, it is our soul that remains to be ours when we die."

"I thought you weren't the religious sort? You just disclaimed that the devil has anything to do with man's sins and evils."

Bellatrix shakes her head. "I never said I didn't believe in a higher power. Certainly there are things in this world we cannot comprehend. All we can hope to do is not displease them least they take away our soul. Our soul is the only thing that matters."

So it seems Bellatrix values her soul greatly. You wonder why. "And what about if that person commits crimes? Then what happens to their soul. Will it get devoured?"

Bellatrix shakes her head and confidently raises her chin. "Not if the person doesn't believe what they are doing is a crime. Ignorance is bliss after all. But should they ever find out then their soul will be crushed by the weight of the sudden realization."

Hmmm, most intriguing. Your hand stops stroking the cat and rises up to your chin. "And what do you consider the state of your soul?"

"I am aware of crimes, and of their implications. But I've never, never will and never have, committed those that are considered to be the sins mentioned in the ten commandments." Bellatrix was a bit religious. How would this new revelation fit into your outlook on her?

"And that makes you exempt from having your soul be tainted?"

"Yes," she smugly responds and taps her head. "I have got it all figured out. My soul will stay intact and I will not lose the only thing as a human I could truly posses. Everything else is fleeting. Temporary. But a soul is everything. I will make sure that no one else will tarnish it. I will protect it." She says this almost reverently.

"But what about when you tried to kill me. I'm certain that is part of the ten commandments. Thou shall not kill." You were atheist, brought on by God's inability to intervene during moments when the shit was getting kicked out of you as a child, but you still knew some things about various world religions due to your curiosity for information.

"I wasn't going to really kill you. Like I said, it's a scare tactic." She waves her hand flippantly and readjusts her cast. It sure didn't feel like a scare tactic. Her eyes are now on the ground and silence fills the air, but you can still feel the heat and weight of the words that had been exchanged floating around. For some reason Bellatrix was in a chatty mood today and you don't want to end the conversation just yet. You could learn so much more about her and you already have; more than you did in those three months of therapy.

You decide to fire back something else at her, a new quote. " _Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most._ Are you one of those people, Bellatrix?"

She knows what you're getting at and she sighs. "Still trying to convert me to the 'good' side? It seems you're thicker than I thought, and I had assumed that this whole conversation would have enlightened you on my state of mind. Doctor, I will not change. I see nothing wrong in the way I live or think. It is you who has to change their thinking in order to get at what I am saying. Until you do, you will not know where it is I speak from."

"I know you do not see anything wrong with yourself and the way you think but most who are ill do not see the issue with themselves until they get help. Then they look back and say 'wow, I cannot believe I ever thought this kind of behavior was okay. I cannot ever believe that I wanted to continue acting this way.' " You say.

You can see Bellatrix shutting down, putting up all her walls again. This isn't good. You're losing her. She stands up, ruffling her skirt so that the back of it isn't as wrinkled anymore.

"Fine, I have a proposition for you," you sigh. "How about a change of perspectives?"

"Go on," Bellatrix arches a brow.

"For a whole day, not just a session, I will let you take me on a walk in your shoes around town. I will keep my mind open and try to learn how it is you see things. But you have to do the same. For a second day, I will take you to town and you must see things the way I do. Is that fair?"

Bellatrix's face slowly breaks out into a mischievous grin. "Sounds intriguing. I'm up for it. Better than those stuffy sessions locked up in a room anyways." She turns on her heel to leave but pauses as she picks up her black jacket from the back of the couch. "And doctor?"

"Yes?" you say, letting Crookshanks off of your lap. The cat waddles over to the kitchen, his bushy tail high in the air.

"You have the ugliest cat I've ever seen." With that she is down the hall and opening the door. Her comment, the absurd random placing of it, leaves your mouth gaping open in shock and it takes you a second to recover.

"Good bye doctor!" she slams the door after her but you manage to blurt something out in time. "He's not that ugly! Also, don't come back here or I _will_ get a retraining order on you!" You don't know if she heard, but you hope for her sake she did.


	7. Chapter 7

Portrait of a Tragic Woman

Session Seven: Therapy for the Therapist

 _Power, and control  
I'm gonna make you fall: _

_Marina and the Diamonds_

* * *

The next day after work you head out to buy some groceries so you can have something to cook for dinner. You stop by a little grocery store, one that you haven't been to in years since you last moved from this area. But you're kind of in a rush and don't have time to wait in the lines at the bigger shops. You are busy rummaging through the shelves of canned beans, wrapped up in your own little world of what meals you can make with this, not noticing the trio that is entering this aisle, laughing loudly and obnoxiously to one another. Their laughter ends when they notice you.

"Hermione?" they question and you turn around, wishing that you hadn't. That you had just ignored them.

Before you are three faces you could never forget although you wish you could. They are the faces of the people who bullied you all through middle school and high school. Who made your life a living hell. Who made you burst into tears each and every day. They were the ones who made you take up judo.

You haven't seen them ever since you graduated high school and had hoped your paths would never cross but apparently luck is not on your side. The one day you happen to frequent the store in your old neighborhood where they happen to live is the day you run into them.

"How rude, not even going to say a hello to your friends?" asks Pansy, the leader of the trio. She's gained weight since you've last seen her, a double chin on it's way to forming. She crosses her arms over her chest. "It looks like she's lost her manners ever since we've stopped teaching them to her. How long has it been? Ten years?"

You swallow and slowly lower the canned food into the basket you're carrying. You don't know what to say. Even after all these years, seeing them still strikes fear into your heart even though you know you are an adult now and shouldn't be scared of them.

"Ten long years," whistled Crabbe, putting his hands on his hips. He's got a neck tattoo and a couple piercings on his chubby face. "You still the same skinny string bean. With that ugly hair and those dumb looking eyes."

"She's still not talking to us. I think we ought to remind her how to say hello," Goyle added. He began to pound his fist into his palm. "Let's go outside, to have a little chit chat."

"No," you finally find your voice. "I'm not talking to you and I will most certainly not be following your demands." They were adults, why were they still bullies? They should know better.

Pansy laughs. "It looks that she thinks that just because she's all grow up she can boss us around."

"We just want to talk to you. Why you so scared for?" Goyle and the others begin to draw up closer. Their faces are leering at you openly and you let your back hit the shelves. You feel boxed in despite the fact that you have an open aisle and can just run out. But you can't run away. You know that it will make you seem weak and you promised yourself you would never be weak in their eyes. Not anymore.

"You can't touch me in this store," you remind them in a firm voice. "Or else you'll get kicked out."

"That's why you're going to come outside with us. After you buy us our groceries," Pansy adds.

"I think not," you say, holding your chin up level and trying to cover the quiver in your voice. "I'm not going to let you bother me anymore."

"Ms. Granger." A voice snaps all of your heads towards the speaker. It's Narcissa. What is she doing here? Isn't this store too poor for her tastes or something? She's hurrying down the aisle, dressed less elegantly than usual. Crabbe lets out an angry growl. "Let's get out of here." Cowards, they always ran when other people of authority were around.

"I can't believe she has friends now," Goyle shakes his head as they move out of the way and a sigh of relief exits your lips.

"We'll be back," Pansy promises, tossing it over her shoulder before the trio is gone. _Well I won't be._ You promise yourself that you will never frequent this store again.

"Are you okay?" Narcissa asks as she notes your pale face and the way you eye those who were leaving.

"Yes, I'm fine." You don't want her knowing a thing abut how you used to be bullied. It might make her think lowly of you and not want to keep you as therapist for her sister. "They were some old...acquaintances."

"I see." Narcissa says and it's hard to tell if she believes you or not.

"What are you doing here?" you ask her to shift the focus off of you.

"I don't normally shop here but Bellatrix needed to get some air so I took her out to this grocery store where not a lot of people would recognize us, and in the meantime thought to buy her some food. Can't keep her in the house all the time."

You narrowed your eyes at that. Did Narcissa not have an inkling of an idea that Bellatrix got enough air as it was? You'd seen her in a bar, and even at your own house! How did she manage to sneak out under Narcissa's nose?

You were about to tell the blonde woman this when Bellatrix came strolling down the aisle like she owned this place. She had an open bag of chips and was eating them casually. Today she was wearing black sunglasses, and a big hoodie that went down to mid thigh, baring the rest of her legs. Her cast, which would still be on for another day or two, was inscribed with words that repeated over and over. You couldn't see from this far what they said.

"Bellatrix! What did I tell you about opening and eating the food in the stores!" Narcissa scolded.

"Relax. It's not like you're poor. You can afford to buy this," Bellatrix answers without concern before turning her head to you. "What lovely friends you have there. Did they stop by for a chat, hm?" she hums as she takes a loud bite of a particularly big chip.

"Uh, yea. Haven't seen them in a while," you mumble out, eager to get off of this topic.

"Interesting." And you know you haven't fooled her. She punctuates her statement with a crisp crunch from her chip.

Narcissa frowns at Bellatrix, unsure if that statement is meant to be sarcastic and thus worthy of reprimanding, but you clear your throat deciding you need to leave. "Well, it was nice to bump into you here. But I have to be on my way." You rattle the basket of food in your hands.

"Of course. Have a nice day doctor," Narcissa says, narrowing her eyes at Bellatrix to say the same, but the older woman has already moved on and is now tossing cans onto the floor in a search for something. "Bellatrix!" Narcissa turns to scold the other and you take this moment to wander off to the cash register and pay for your groceries.

But when you go outside the store, you can see the trio from before loitering on the streets. _Oh shit. Not this. Not this!_ They notice you exit and exchange satisfied grins with each other over your panicked facial expression.

"What'd you get us Hermione?" Crabbe asks.

Your mouth feels dry and you turn on your heel and head into the store before your mind can even register what your body has done. _Fuck! I've run away from them. Now they'll definitely know how much they freak me out still to this day! Shit! What am I going to do now?_ _Their in the way of my car and I won't be able to just casually walk past them._

At that moment, Narcissa and Bellatrix are approaching the exit, having finished cleaning up the cans. "I thought you would have left by now," Bellatrix comments. She looks sullen, no doubt from a scolding by Narcissa.

"I, uh," you quickly scramble for some sort of excuse. "I locked my keys. In my car. And I can't drive back home."

"Most unfortunate that that has happened. Would you mind terribly if I gave you a lift home?" Narcissa offers, laying a gentle hand on your forearm.

"No, uh, that would be great," you sputter and ignore the suspicious look on Bellatrix's face. For some reason you feel like she knows you're lying but with the round glasses on her face blocking her eyes it's heard to tell. Then again, it's hard to tell anything with her.

Normally you wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone, but you didn't dare to argue against Narcissa's offer, that's how desperate you were to avoid your three bullies.

"My car is just this way," Narcissa grabs your elbow and steers you out the store. On the way out you pass by the trio who watch your departure with curious eyes. You pray that they won't make some sort of comment on this and so far your prayers go answered. But again Bellatrix is watching you with intense scrutiny, the way you duck your head and look at the ground. Her line of vision trails to the trio. You try to stop focusing on the bullies whose eyes burn into your back and try to strike up a conversation with Narcissa. But you're not sure what to say.

"Which one's your car?" you ask, grasping at straws and she points at one at the end of the parking lot. It's gray and sleek and elegant like her personality. "Nice," you let out a low whistle. "Mine's not as nice, of course," you make small talk, wincing internally at your own lame follow up.

"I can imagine you might not be able to afford such a nice car, given the differences in wages made."

 _That's calling me poor, in a nice way._

"Yea," you lamely finish at which point the three of you have reached the car. You keep your groceries on your lap, the lone brown paper bag not too heavy to handle despite Narcissa offering to put it away in the trunk.

When she tells you to take the passenger side seat you are a bit surprised. "Shouldn't Bellatrix sit here?"

"Nonsense. She'll only fiddle with the radio and drive me crazy," Narcissa answers and it does sound like a typical Bellatrix like move. Perhaps it will be a relief not to have her sit here up front and you will be doing the blonde haired woman a favor.

"Okay." You climb in and Bellatrix goes into the back seat, surprisingly not disputing the fact that her seat has been stolen. Might have to do with the fact that she is currently stuffing her mouth with candy, all her attention on it.

Narcissa starts the car and you smoothly pull out of the parking lot. You can't help but give one last look at the trio through the rear view mirror. They look to be heading back home and you let out a tired sigh. You'll have to come back and fetch your car later. Hopefully you won't run into them during that time. It's just annoying that they've caused this hindrance to your day.

"So, Ms. Granger. How was your day?" Narcissa asks, opening up the conversation and you try your best to keep the conversation alive. Along the way you mention how to get to your house and in about twenty minutes you arrive.

"Thank you so much," you thank as you exit the car. "I thought I was in quite a pinch back there."

"It is of no issue," Narcissa smiles back.

"Good day," you tell both women in the car but Bellatrix ignores you. She's off staring at something outside the window.

"Good day," Narcissa responds and you close the door, watching them drive away.

* * *

When seven pm rolls around you decide to go back for your car. You'll need to take a bus in order to get back to the place. And as a safety precaution you decide to bring your pepper spray with you. You know judo, but you seriously don't think you can take on three people at one time. You thumb the pepper spray in your bag nervously the whole ride over, your palms sweating. Arriving at your destination you survey the area, making sure no one you recognize is there. Breathing out a silent thanks that Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle are nowhere to be seen, you unlock your car and slide right in. You gradually relax on the ride back home, thinking that you were worked up over nothing. You even take to humming to yourself, glad everything went fine.

When you get to your house you notice that the lights are on in the living room even though you didn't leave them on when you left. Or did you? You cautiously make your way in and jump at the sight of a familiar woman in black in your room, wearing an even more familiar white coat over her shoulders.

"Bellatrix! What the fuck!"

"Mmmm, quite a nice greeting," Bellatrix clicks her tongue sarcastically as she spins around on her heel away from the mirror where she was checking her reflection in.

"I am not in the mood for you to be here- you shouldn't even be here! What did I tell you about breaking into my house!" You can't help from screaming. This woman is something else! You wonder if she has a tendency for stalking. But nowhere on her past files did it say she stalked her previous therapists.

"I'm here to help."

"Help?" you echo dryly.

"With your therapy session," she states as if this was the most normal thing for her to do. This explains her clothing choice. She's dressed rather professionally, and even nicely, dare you admit. She has on a black turtle neck, long black pants with booted heels. White wire frame glasses sit on her nose and in her hands she's holding a pen and pad. But what takes the cake is the fact she's wearing your coat. She shouldn't be wearing it!

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" you spurt out. "You just can't keep waltzing into my house! You can't do this-what kind of mindfuck are you trying to pull?!" Never in all your years of therapy has this ever happened to you. That a patient basically drives you to such anger, to such violence, to one upping you.

She gives you a lopsided grin. "I can see you're agitated. Please take a seat." She's even arranged the room in a mimicry of what your office looks like and sweeps her hand out to the chair she wants you to sit at.

You can feel red hot anger in your veins and you clench your fists to keep your ugly emotions at bay. Through gritted teeth you say, "and why would you think I would calmly go through all this with you? In fact, I'm calling the cops. I don't care if you're my patient or not, I'm going to get a restraining order on you."

This doesn't have the intended effect. "Oh, scary," she mocks. "Now, stop with the threats and sit down for your session."

"Bellatrix-!" you cannot believe this woman is still going along with this!

"Do you, or do you not want to help?"

"Excuse me?"

"I told you that if you wanted to help me, you had to help yourself. And the only way, for I see you aren't willing to face your problems on your own, is if I help you first." Her voice is stern and she keeps her eyes level on you.

For a moment you are flabbergasted. She wants to help you? That's-you don't know exactly what to make of it. "I don't need your help," you stutter out, not wanting to look weak in front of her. But really, isn't it already too late? She's seen through all your years of lying and hiding things from yourself and from others.

"You don't?" Bellatrix arches a brow. "I find that a bit hard to believe. The interaction with your 'acquaintances' was all I needed to confirm this. They were your primary aggressors, weren't they?"

Your mouth opens and shuts, hoping to refute this point, but nothing but air comes out.

"Ah, I was right," Bellatrix states smugly before she sits down in her chair. "Now sit down before you faint from shock."

You do in fact feel a bit weak in the knees and so gingerly make your way over to the chair positioned directly in front of her, worried that she's going to yet again see something else in your soul. You want to cross your arms over your chest to somehow protect yourself but you don't because it wouldn't work anyways.

"Now, go into the details," she says businesslike and clicking her pen she sets it to paper.

When you sit there, lips pursued and mind still digesting the whole situation, she looks up with mild annoyance in her eyes at you. "So?"

"I don't...I still don't see why I should be sharing this with you," you say at last. You need to be resolute and tough, you are the one with the degree. She's just conducting some silly game. She's just trying to play you again, trying to make you lose in this weird game of wills that the two of you have going on. "After all, you're insane. You wouldn't know what advice to give, how to comprehend the situation." You try to structure a logical argument to prove your point. At the back of your head a voice says that logic doesn't work on those whose minds are muddled but you are going to try anyways.

"That just gives all the more reason for you to tell me what's on your mind," Bellatrix said, slowly sliding the glasses off her face. She bit the end of the leg and you thought the action was criminally too good on her. She should be banned from doing that move. You could feel your cheeks heat up for some reason. In fact her whole demeanor is different right now. More professional. "After all, I won't tell anyone, for no one would believe me anyways. And I know you don't want to tell anyone about your deep dark issues, because of your pride."

"I'm not prideful," you huff out, affronted. "And I just don't want to burden people with my issues-"

"You've never actually been on the receiving end of therapy yourself, have you?" Bellatrix leaned back in her chair, raising her chin up arrogantly and slinging her arm on the back of the chair. "Quite interesting. You're so prideful you refuse to even have your own problems sorted out before you sort out problems for other people. It's quite unhealthy, you know."

"But, I, I mean-" you don't know what to say to this. Yes, you've never been to therapy but only because you thought you could always handle your feelings. That you didn't need to talk them over with someone else. "I can handle myself. I don't need to seek help for my issues. Besides, their all in the past."

"Yes, perhaps that would be the case if it weren't for the fact you didn't have any friends in your childhood, in sum no one you could rely on or dispel your emotions to."

"I had friends!" you snarl out suddenly. This is a sore point for you.

Bellatrix smirks at this. She knows you're lying. She puts her glasses back on, and you wonder briefly if their prescription or not before you go back to being upset at her and the way she is getting inside your head. She takes a pen and scribbles something down. "Come now, pet. I'm really trying to cooperate here. I'm trying to give you a chance to help you get closer to helping me, but you're being awfully childish about this whole thing. And I don't need your unresolved anger and social issues coloring your view of what I do."

"My view points are not skewed! I am perfectly capable of being objective! And I don't want to do this therapy session. There are other ways you can 'help' me if you wish to do so. But this is not one of them."

"And what other way would you suggest?"

"I-I don't know," you fumble for words. "I haven't thought of any yet."

Bellatrix hums, tapping her pen to her lips. She's thinking of something.

"Anyways, just take off my damn coat and stop this whole farce. I want you to go home and I don't want to ever see you in my house ever again-"

"This is making you uncomfortable," Bellatrix softly states and you feel a wash of relief over you. Finally, she gets it!

"Yes, generally when someone else barges into someone's home without notice and takes to wearing their clothes, it can produce more than just mere discomfort at the sight."

Bellatrix shakes her head. "No. You're uncomfortable with bearing your inner self. Now do you understand how I feel at therapy sessions?"

Yet again you find yourself with your mouth flapping open and closed. She's got you there. What can you even say to that? Did she really stage all this just to prove this point? She was incorrigible.

"But," at this she popped off the chair, startling you. "I know you're never going to get this issue resolved unless someone intervenes. You'd just be content with letting it be the way it is. So that's why I've arranged something for you, pet."

What? Your mind goes, at the same time your mouth says, "pet?" What was up with her calling you this now? You thought the mockingly said doc was her thing.

She ignores this. "We're going to drive over to their place and you're going to tell them exactly how you feel about them and what they did to you." At this you shoot up to your feet, nearly colliding into her face from how close she is.

"Are you-" you wanna call her insane, but you think you've driven the point home already earlier. "I am not doing that."

"Are you scared, pet? Think you can't do it? If that's the case then I suppose you're walking away from a great opportunity to pay those who hurt you back for all they've done to you. If you don't take this chance now, then who knows if another one like this will ever arise again," Bellatrix's words are worming their way under your skin and you grit your teeth so tightly you feel they'll explode. Bellatrix has set the pieces into place on this game and you know the moment you walked in here you lost because she'd been putting the pieces into place ever since she saw the bullies.

 _How is she doing this? How is she getting to me this easily?_

"Well?" she asks, still waiting for your answer.

With a deep sigh you nod your head tightly. "I'm going to go, and do what it is you ask of me, only because I want you to see a good example of how a patient should act during a therapy session." You give her a smile, trying to regain some sort of control no matter how minuscule.

By the widening of her eyes behind her glasses, you can see you've done exactly what she wanted you to, but not with the words she expected you to say.

 _Good,_ you think triumphantly. You got a slight edge over her.

"Well then. After you," Bellatrix gestures to the door and you head to the car.

The drive over is tense. You're nervous about doing what she asks of you, and you're still annoyed at her managing to force you into this. Her games were seriously annoying you. She is calm (calm for her) however, fiddling with the car radio. She flies through stations before turning them off and then drums her fingers on the headboard. The noise only serves to increase your agitation.

"Would you cut that out?" you hiss at her, unable to hold back the irritation from erupting.

"Cut what out?" she asks innocently.

You inhale sharply and refuse to engage with that comment further. "You know, it really worries me how you know where they live. Did you stalk them too? Like you stalk me?" Did Narcissa really not know what her sister was up to during her spare time?

"You can't tell Cissy. Doctor patient confidentiality." Bellatrix wags her finger at you as she slides down in her seat and then up.

"You're wrinkling my coat," you scold her, eyeing her evilly. This only makes her stick her tongue out at you and she proceeds to slide up and down more vigorously. "And I have a right to report to the people you've been stalking that you have been doing so if I deem it dangerous to their well being."

"The Tarasoff ruling. Yea, I know. But how's that gonna work out, pet? You're the one I visit most in their house and you already know I do that. What, you gonna tell yourself, hey, Bellatrix is at my house? Besides, I've already fulfilled the part of bodily harm so it's a bit too late," Bellatrix scoffs at this, rolling her eyes for good measure. "And as for these idiots, I don't plan on physically harming them. We're just going over for a friendly chat."

"Friendly chat, right," you disbelievingly grunt out as you follow where her finger is pointing to down the street. You've arrived at the place. It's the shitty part of the old neighborhood you used to live at. You suck in a huge breath of air and park the car. Bellatrix is coming with you and for that you're grateful.

Still in slight disbelief that you are doing this, going up to your old bullies house, you ring the doorbell. You're nerves are going crazy right now and so you clench and unclench your hands. You feel half tempted to run away but you know if you do you'll lose. So you don't. You pretend this is just a regular everyday talk.

You go to ring the doorbell again and when no one shows up you shrug and turn to Bellatrix. "No one's here. I guess I go home." You feel relieved at this.

"No. Ring it again." Bellatrix's tone of voice brokered no discussion.

"Right." You ring it again, and finally this time the door opens. Pansy steps out, wearing some stained sweats and holding a can of beer in her hand.

"Hermione?" She questions, clearly caught off guard by this. She eyes the two of you on the steps and you swallow loudly. What now?

"Uh, hi Pansy," you wave awkwardly and Bellatrix clears her throat, disapproving of your weak start. She goes to wipe her glasses.

"Whose the doc?" She eyes Bellatrix next to her.

"I'm glad you asked!" Bellatrix says in a fake cheery voice, as she slides her glasses back on, waiting for this question. "I'm Hermione's therapist!"

"What-no!" You spin on your heel to glare at her.

"Ah, no need to be so shy," Bellatrix waves her hand at you, chuckling lightly. "There is no shame in going to therapy. Really, she's such a sweet person. It's a shame that people like you take advantage of her. Downright disgusting actually." At the disgust in Bellatrix's last sentence Pansy's eyebrows shoot up.

 _Ah, shit. I have a feeling this is going to go wrong._

"And so she's here to talk to you and your little friends," the dark haired woman gave a smile.

Pansy, looking increasingly uncomfortable with this situation, nodded her head numbly and let the two enter her house. _And thus we enter the lion's den,_ you grimace, trying to ignore the bad smell. It smells like sweat, smoke and alcohol. Cheap alcohol. The place is small inside and Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on the worn green couch, only lit up by the glow from the TV. They were both in their wife beaters and they looked up when Bellatrix pushed you to stand in front of the TV, effectively blocking their show.

"The fuck?" Crabbe eloquently summed up what all three of them were thinking.

"What are you doing in our house string bean?" Goyle chuckled, popping open a new can of beer. Pansy sat down on the free spot on the couch. "I don't know. She and this bitch showed up on my doorstep." Apparently being next to her friend's seemed to give Pansy her nasty tongue back.

You cast a quick glance at Bellatrix's cocky and expectant face and wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans. "Right. I'm here to tell you how much I hate you all."

* * *

In retrospect that might not have been the best way to start a conversation with them. Things had gotten pretty violent pretty fast, and with Bellatrix around, she did nothing to help stop the fight. She actually encouraged it. But it was to be expected. It was her, after all.

"See, what did I tell you?" Bellatrix chirped as she sat at your kitchen counter as you plastered her split knuckles on the hand that had the cast on. You could see the words clearly on it, written in some chicken scratch, the same phrase over and over again. _I was here, I was here, I was here_ in varying sizes. Weird. You wondered what it meant.

"You told me to kick their ass," you grunt out as you struggle to put the last plaster on. But Bellatrix is even more energetic than usual due to the fight and she squirms in her seat. Her eyes are glowing despite the bruise forming on her temple and the split knuckles.

"And wasn't that a great piece of advice?" She didn't wait for you to say no like she knew you would and went on. "Come on, the look on their faces was so worth it! Don't tell me it didn't feel good to have them at your mercy, to have them tremble under you."

It had felt nice, but no way in hell would you ever admit to that. Flashes of the fight went through your head. The trio had started it after you had let loose all your pent up resentments at them. But with your judo skills, their apparent lack of exercise and current intoxication, plus the aide of Bellatrix on your side, you had won. And they had been scared. This wasn't the same string bean they remembered. This wasn't the same Hermione. And you had gloated at the end, you would shamefully admit. But come on! It was only right to do so a bit, to relish in the pain they felt after all they had done to you.

"And don't you dare forget this," you had growled, voice low in your throat and eyes hard as you wiped the dribble of blood where Goyle's clumsy attempt at hitting you had worked. "I know where you live. You will never be safe if you think you can hurt me."

They had merely lain there, stunned. And then you left, Bellatrix on your heels.

"I know you enjoyed it, doc," Bellatrix cooed. "But it's alright. I won't speak a word of this to anyone. What happened tonight stays between us. Forgotten even."

You feel the strange urge to thank Bellatrix for what she has done. She in her own twisted way, helped you with what you could now see was your biggest issue. What plagued you for years. What made you less confident. She had been the friend that no one else had been. She had even fought with you. Granted, she was an adrenaline addict and probably did it for her own benefit, calculating there would a fight and thus throwing this together, but in the end she was there, fighting in a way for you as well.

You only wondered if now you were 'cured' in her eyes and thus deemed good to help her.

"So, can I help you now? Am I good enough?" You ask, hating how the words sound like you doubt yourself but she laughs loudly before you can correct your words.

"My dear, that's for you to see. Now, I've got to go. Sleep and all that," she waves a hand over her head and shrugs out of the coat and tosses it to you. Only when she leaves do you raise the material to your nose, noting that it smells like her.

You sigh and close your eyes. A doctor like you shouldn't be acting this way. Shouldn't be letting their patents dictate their life, shouldn't be getting into fights. The bruises on your ribs throb in pain. It's wrong.

But this won't be your last wrong, for though you do not know it, more are to come.

 **A/N: I had so much fun putting Bellatrix in the role of a therapist in this chapter. Her therapy sessions would definitely be something else. And she's finally helped Hermione with some of her issues, so now it remains to be seen if Bellatrix will finally open up.**

 **Also it may seem a lot like poor Hermione is the patient, with how Bellatrix is tugging her around, but the boundaries between their relationships are very blurred so Hermione will eventually be able to help Bellatrix but not before Bellatrix has some fun at her expense.**


	8. Chapter 8

Portrait of a Tragic Woman

Session Number Eight: Slipping into the Deep End _  
_

 _"I'm slipping into the deep end, I'm in over my head, I can't catch my breath, I'm slipping into the deep end, Feel the current within, I can't help but give in:_

 _Ruelle, Deep End_

* * *

"Bellatrix, why are we in a bar? It's barely nine am," you grumble, siting down in a booth in the bar. It's a fairly new establishment and you are surprised that its doors are even open this early. You take a sip of your complimentary water, unhappy with the ungodly hour you were dragged out of bed. You made a promise to Bellatrix that you would try a different approach to therapy with her and thus a week later, you found yourself being yanked out of bed at four in the morning on a Saturday.

"Hello?" You had groggily answered the phone, barely able to see the screen because of how bright it was. You were half out of bed and your hair was a mess.

"Wakey wakey!" Bellatrix's voice had cackled back at you and you let out a groan, slapping your face to make sure this wasn't some nightmare or something.

"How did you get my cell number? I don't recall giving it to you." You are barely coherent as you say this, your voice low and sleep lodged.

"You gave me your house number but there is no way I am calling that. It's not as fun. You'd probably ignore it this early in the morning anyways." She danced around answering your question but you couldn't care to repeat it.

"Why are you even calling this early? Do you want to call the session off?"

There is a chuckle. "Of course not. You said you would let me run this day, would let me show you a day in my life. So, up and at em doc. I'm awake at this hour and I need you to wake up too."

You let Bellatrix know your disapproval with a long groan into the phone. "Are you serious? Are you sure you're not waking up early on purpose to torment me?"

"Don't flatter yourself doctor. I'm not trying to torment you today. Unless you want me too?" The last part is cooed and you repress a shiver that crawls down your back.

"Fine. I'll be up and ready in thirty minutes."

"Too long. I'm already waiting for you outside."

"What?" You stumble up from your bed and part the curtains. Sure enough, a dark clad figure is waiting outside by a street lamp. Bellatrix raises a hand and waves at you. You sigh and let the curtains fall back into place.

"See you downstairs in ten. Oh, and dress light." There is a click and the phone disconnects. Dress light? What does Bellatrix mean by that? You hurriedly rush to the bathroom and take care of basic hygienic before you grab some clothes from the chair that you left a couple days ago there and had meant to clean up but didn't. You step out of the house, car keys in hand. It's still dark outside and you can hear the buzz of insects as they fly around your head.

Bellatrix gets up from where she's leaning casually on the lamppost. She's wearing dark denim shorts with a thin long sleeved dark shirt. A bag packed with something is sitting next to her feet. "What did you call me out so early for that we couldn't do during the day." You rub your eyes. They prickle with lack of sleep.

"Just drive the car, and I'll tell you on the way. We need to hurry or else we won't make it in time for the sunrise."

"The sunrise?" you echo.

"Yes."

And so the two of you went hiking that morning. You drove an hour on the instructions of Bellatrix and pulled up into a part of the woods outside town that you've never been to before. There are trails there but Bellatrix pulls the bag she has taken with her onto her shoulders and takes her own trail. You follow behind her, still too tired to complain or question much.

The path you take is rough and rocky. Sharp brambles scrap your ankles and you wish you had brought longer pants. The morning is getting brighter and you can tell the sun is going to rise soon. A faint sheen of sweat breaks out on your face. You're not really the exercise type so this walk is taking a lot out of you. But Bellatrix, despite the heavy weight on her back, is doing fine. Her legs are red with marks from where bushes scrapped her but it doesn't look to bother her. She's trailed out quite a bit ahead of you and you tell her to slow down.

"I can't walk as fast as you," you nearly gasp out. Bellatrix turns on her heels and frowns at she puts her hands on her hips.

"This is pathetic." Patronizing as usual.

"Well excuse me. I don't exactly have the time to hike. I didn't even have time to eat breakfast or to pack supplies for this."

"We'll eat later. We can't miss the sunrise. So hurry up." She taps her foot impatiently.

"Just go on ahead of me, I'll eventually catch up."

"Suit yourself." With that Bellatrix has scaled this rocky outcrop, nimbly doing so and you curse under your breath when you get to it. You're already tired from the steep incline of the woods and now there's this big ass rock in your way. Grumbling under your breath you dig your fingers into the crevices and tug yourself up.

When you get to the top you crawl onto it, breathing hard and with a streak of dirt on your face. Bellatrix is sitting on the top, legs crossed, bag cast to the side. She's drinking from a water bottle and staring out into the hills. You noisily join her, plopping down gratefully. The sun has already risen, the orange ball steadily making its way across the sky from behind the mountain range and making everything bright with its touch. The trees, the sky, the clouds, all are affected by it. It's glow settles on your face and you feel a sense of calm in you at the sight. From this rock you have a great view of the woods in front of you, the land stretching out for miles before you. The trees sway gently above you and birds chirp, thrilled by the arrival of the sun. You and Bellatrix sit there for a while, not speaking, just soaking in the place's atmosphere. You've never seen the other this still before. It's like she's transformed into a rock.

At last when the glow of the sun becomes too strong to look at directly, Bellatrix stands up, dusting off the bottom of her shorts. "Leaving?" you ask and she digs around in her bag, tossing the bottle of water to you. You gladly accept it and suck it down in one go. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were until now. The water only serves to bring back your hunger however, your stomach growling loudly.

Bellatrix hears this and tosses you a wrapped sandwich before she settles back down next to you and tears into hers.

"Did you make these?" you ask, not opening it up, just weighting it in your hand with uncertainty,

"Don't worry. I didn't poison them." Bellatrix throws you a smile and you decide that you might as well eat it. You don't want to lose her trust. You bite into it, delighted to find out that it's pretty good. Again there is silence between the two of you and you want to interrupt it, to better understand the other woman's reason for coming here.

"Do you do this often?"

"Do what often?"

"Hike."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Bellatrix takes a big bite of her sandwich and you wait for her to chew and swallow. "Nature relaxes me. It makes me feel as if I was part of the world, yet it also makes me feel small and insignificant because after all, what are humans compared to Mother Nature's might? Nothing but ants in the face of her anger."

Her answer is a bit complicated but you try to work with it; to simplify it. "Do you not feel a part of society?"

"You could say society doesn't feel like it fits with me." She grins at this, almost like she is making a joke that only she gets.

You hmm at this, turning back to your sandwich. It is true in a way. Bellatrix seems like she is too wild for society and it's rules. It feels more like she is a wolf wearing human clothing. The way she scaled these woods, like they were an old friend, confirms that feeling.

"Does nature scare you? Or do you like it? Because you said that it comforts you yet makes you feel like nothing."

"I do like nature. And I especially love the violent side of it." Of course, everything is violence with her. You wonder how it is she shows love to others, like her sisters. Is it with fists and screams? "I've been outside in hurricanes, in thunderstorms. In floods, in mudslides, in earthquakes."

"That's dangerous!" You blurt out at her. Did this woman have a death wish? Severe weather was no joke.

"Relax," she laughs, amused by your reaction. "I know what I'm doing."

"And your sister allows you to do this?"

"Obviously not. I run away before she can trap me in the house."

"You can die," you growl out at her, astounded by her lack of self preservation.

"Yes, but that's all part of it. Because in such situations your adrenaline pumps, it rushes your body and you revert to all your primal instinct. When you finally and truly get in touch with your true nature. When you finally feel alive."

"I forbid you from doing this!" You sputter at her, not liking her justification at all.

Bellatrix merely sighs, crumples up the empty sandwich wrapper and turns her dark gaze on you. "Today you said you would listen to me, live my life, and not judge me. You're not doing a good job of it."

You frown, having forgotten that that was what you had promised. "Fine," you grudgingly give up your ire at her stupidity and get up as she does. You collect the trash up and it goes into her bag.

"I'll have to show you what I mean in order for you to truly get me." With that she climbs back down the rock and you follow down as well, albeit more clumsily and slowly.

When you get back to the car she demands you drive her to this commercial building which turns out to be a restaurant/bar and the two of you settle down inside. You clearly are not happy about this. It's only nine am.

"Are you planning on getting shit faced this early?"

"You know bars also have food, right? I'm still starved. Pick something out." She props open the menu handed to you both by the waiter. Her face disappears behind it, only the top of her curls visible.

"You're treating me?" you question, surprised. Since when did she have manners?

"No. You are treating us both to food."

"What?" you slap her menu to the table so that you can see her face. "Who said?"

"I did." She grins at you cockily.

"I did not agree to this."

"Doc, don't tell me you're stingy. You make a shit ton of cash from my sister just to 'help' me. I, on the other hand, can't land a job."

You gulp guiltily. It is true that the woman won't be able to have a job because of her mental conditions.

"Fine. I'll pay," you grumble.

"Excellent. I take it you'll be paying for our drinks later too."

You open our mouth at this but she wags a finger and you snap your jaw shut. You want to say that you will not be drinking today but the other woman reminds you: "Today we are doing things my way."

"I don't want to drink. Next thing I'll know is you'll be having me try drugs."

A mischievous grin grows on her face at this and your eyes flare open. "Oh no you don't!"

She cackles at your facial expression. "Relax miss prim and proper. We won't be doing that today." The today implies you might be doing it some other time and you don't want to.

"Bellatrix if you are in possession of illegal substances then I will turn you into the cops-"

"Waiter, we'd like to order." Bellatrix waves her hand self importantly in the air, pointedly ignoring you, and the boy comes over and takes her order. "And what will you be having?" he looks at you and you hastily look down at the menu ordering the first thing that looks edible to you.

You hand the menus over once he scribbles down the orders and you turn to the dark haired woman.

"So, what are we doing next?"

"We're going to dine and dash," Bellatrix comments casually, her finger curling in a lock of her hair.

"We're going to what?!" you sputter out, gripping the edge of the table. "You can't be serious. There is no way I am doing that!"

"It's just a little dine and dash. You've never done it before? Everyone has at one point in their life."

"I'm not going to do that. It's immoral!"

Bellatrix simply sits back into her booth. "We'll see about that." The way she says it with certainty makes you fearful. And she is quiet after this, finger twirling, leg skittering under the table, and looking at the whole place, her gaze wandering. Minutes stretch out and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

"I am not doing it. I am not. You hear me? Hey," you snap your fingers at her to get her attention but she ignores you. "I'm not doing it. You can't make me." You keeping repeating this in hopes it will get through her thick skull. "And you are not doing it either."

"I'm not the one whose paying for the meal. You are." She doesn't bother to look at you as she says this.

"Bellatrix-" you hiss but the waiter drops by, two plates of warm food with him. "The bacon, egg and toast for you." He sets it down by Bellatrix and she immediately tears into it. "And the bagel with cream cheese for you." He sets the food in front of you and you are uncertain what to do with it momentarily. The fact that Bellatrix wants to dine and dash puts a bad taste in your mouth. But the sandwich wasn't enough and you decide to dig in. If you're the one paying then you have control over your wallet. She doesn't.

The meal is spent in silence. The food is quickly cleared off the plates, and you watch Bellatrix for any sign of her trying to do something. She is actively avoiding your gaze, taking to examining her nails or the grain of the wood of the table. You swallow the last bite of your bagel and wipe your mouth with a napkin. "We are not dining and dashing," you remind her, with a whisper. You are afraid someone will over hear you and toss you to the police for even considering such an idea.

At this, a smirk stretches her lips and she raises her eyes to yours. You don't like this. But you ignore it and reach for your wallet which is in your pants pocket. You pat it and frown. Did you leave it in the car? But no, you swore you brought it with you. Bellatrix's smirk only intensifies at your perplexed distress. Reaching under the table she pulls out something brown and leather bound.

"You took my wallet!" You have no idea how she did it. You didn't even feel her pick pocket you! Did she do it on the way into the store? "Give it back now." You hold out a commanding hand.

"I don't think so." She rises from her seat and you would have done the same if she didn't kick you in the shins, hard, under the table.

You hiss and grab the offended body part and she is already out the booth and to the door. "Bellatrix!" You shout after her, panic in your voice. You don't care how loud you are being right now. One person looks up at you and shoots you a look but you barely notice. You turn back to the table, your heart racing in your chest. _Oh fuckfuckfuck. That fucking bitch. I can't believe she's making me do this. I am so stupid for ever agreeing to do a therapy session like this._

You feel like you are going to be sick. You can feel the bagel crawling back up throat and you swallow thickly to keep it down. Your hands go into your hair and you stare down at the table with wide eyes. What are you going to do now? You can't leave here until you pay but you have no money and you certainly don't want to leave without paying. A drop of sweat makes it's way down your back.

"Miss, are you okay?" the waiter from before approaches you and you feel your heart crawl up to your throat. "You look sick." He comments, looking worriedly at your pale face. "Do you need to step outside?"

"Yesyes," you breathe, glad for an out. You rush out and into the bright day, hunched over on your stomach. You feel drenched in sweat. You really feel like you will be sick. You get to the car and Bellatrix is in the passenger seat playing with your wallet. You open up her door and she doesn't startle at the violent way you do it.

"Bellatrix Black, I fucking swear, never. Again. This session is now over. Get out of my car." She turns a lazy gaze to you. You feel so ashamed by what you just did and you blame it all on her. How could she make you do this? You've never broken a rule before.

"Get over yourself, sweetie," she says and your chest swells with anger.

"I will not get over it. I could go to prison-!"

At this Bellatrix grabs the front of your white top and knocks her forehead against yours painfully, drawing tears to your ducts. Her eyes fill your vision. "Did you not want to understand me better? Are you giving up already doctor? Are you a quitter? A coward? All the others couldn't handle me. Will you be just like them? Will you break your promise to Cissy?"

Her words should not incite you like they do, but they have a negative affect. "I am not a quitter."

"That's what I thought," she growls. Then she lets go and tosses the wallet into her bra so that you can't get it. "Get in and drive before they come out and start looking for us."

"My wallet," the request comes out flat.

"If you're a good girl, I'll give it back to you." She pats your cheek and you slap her hand away. But you stomp around to your side of the car and pull it out of the parking spot once you get inside.

"We're going to a bar next."

"We just left one. I am not dining and dashing again." You remind her firmly as you grip the steering wheel with much more force than necessary.

"But didn't you feel it?"

"Feel what? The guilt, the shame?" You snap back. You turn down a block and make a left, pausing on a light.

"No, the relief when you got away with it?"

You pretend not to know what she's talking about. Truth be told you had felt overwhelmingly stressed out but when you had had an opening to escape you had felt your heart soar and had pounced on the opportunity without feeling bad. So you lie.

"I didn't feel it."

"Seems the stick up your ass is deeply rooted." Bellatrix stretches her arms above her head casually. Her words make your cheeks burn and you shoot her a hateful look. "I do not have a stick up my ass! It's you who, who," you stutter, unable to come up with something insulting to say.

"Who needs a stick up the ass?" Bellatrix finishes for you coyly. "Sorry, been there, tried that and honestly I don't like it. I like sticks in other place howev-"

"Stop that!" You blurt out, not needing this sort of mental imagery at her innuendo.

"Oh, do we have a prude?" There is a teasing lithe to her voice and you want to drop this topic right now.

"I am not going to answer you. And you are not going to ask anymore questions."

"Did little doc here never get a proper fuck? Does she not know what a pen-"

"Stop it," you growl out, your grip on the wheel tightening.

"I bet you've never even been touched by another guy. Not even been kissed. Tell me, do you have to do the job by yourself each and every lonely night as you lie in bed by yourself?" Her sick words twist your gut and the brake is under your foot within a second. You slam on them and Bellatrix, who refuses to buckle herself in, smacks her face right into the dashboard before rocking back as the car jerks to a stop. Cars honk at you, slamming on their brakes too.

Bellatrix sits back up, her hand shakily coming up to her nose which is bleeding. You immediately feel bad, the second of satisfaction disappearing when you see what you have done. "Are you okay?" You squeak out, ashamed of yourself. She turns furious eyes to you and then it is your head that is smashed hard on the steering wheel. The horn blares and over the sound of it you can hardly hear her voice as she presses your face in hard. You can't breathe, your face too close, and you grab at her hands in your hair, trying to shake her but she remains firm. "You fucking bitch. I will fuckin' cut your throat open if you ever do that shit again. Do you understand me? Do you?" she grinds your face relentlessly and you try to mumble out a yes.

"What, I can't hear you," she snarls and drags your head up by the back.

"Y-yes," you mumble out. "I understand."

"Good." Then she bounces your head off the wheel once more, the horn letting out a sad small beep in response. As soon as her hands leave your hair you rub your nose. It feels like it's been mushed into the back of your skull. You run your fingers over it, trying to reshape it. Irritated honks sound behind you, a cacophony of them. You stopped in the middle of a busy road and as people pass by your stalled car they flip you off.

You get the car going again. "If you had worn a seat belt, this wouldn't be an issue. Some rules in society are meant to protect lives."

"I wouldn't need to wear this seat belt if you hadn't slammed the brakes."

"I only did that because-" at this you sigh and stop yourself. Honestly, you are ashamed of yourself. You shouldn't react like this to her taunts and jibes but you do and it confuses the shit out of you. She may just be the most complicated patient you have ever had. They weren't kidding when they called her a hard case to crack.

You can feel Bellatrix rubbing her face on your t-shirt sleeve and you let out a cry of disgust. She's wiping her blood on you. "That's a white shirt! I don't have a change of clothes."

"Deal with it. You made it bleed in the first place." She picks up her head when she is done and you throw a disgruntled look at the smear on your shirt. You hope you can wash it out. She wasn't able to get all the blood off and some of it has crusted around her lips. "I had a tissue you could use in the compartment."

She ignores this and stares out the car, wiping away the rest with her fingers. You shake your head and turn your full attention back to the road.

You get to the bar. It's one that's close to the beach and even at this hour it's quite full. It's fancy with a patio out back and rows of tables on the roof. The smell of the ocean permeates the air and it soothes you. "We'll take the table in the back," Bellatrix states to the bartender who nods his head and sends over someone to bring you the drinks menu.

"I really don't like this idea of drinking," you repeat, feeling like a broken record.

"The Hawaiian Flower is a good drink. I recommend that one," she points at the menu with her pointer finger after the two of you have sat down in front of each other. This table is more secluded from the others, the lights darker here.

"You shouldn't be drinking either."

"But the Ocean Breeze is also pretty good. For a lightweight you should take it."

"Bellatrix."

"Although the Paradise Island is-"

"Bellatrix!" you cry out, exasperated. She looks up and shoots you an annoyed look at having her words interrupted.

"Is the baby doctor complaining again? Is she giving up so easily?" She bats her eyes, sticking out her mouth in a pout and you sigh angrily. "I'll have the Pina Colada," you give in and tap on the drink on the laminated menu. It's the one with the least amount of alcohol in it. You figure you won't get too drunk off of it.

The drinks arrive and they continue arriving for the better chunk of the afternoon. You sip yours down slowly and she gulps her's down like a seasoned pro, going for straight shots of vodka at some moments. Despite all this intake she only gets a slight pink flush to her cheeks and you wonder how she does it. The conversation between the two of you starts off simple and superficial. You can tell that despite promising to let you understand her better, she is holding back. And after three hours of idle chatter (she loves to talk shit about politicians it seems) you decide to prod her.

"Tell me about your family life." You know this question is loaded, but what's the worst she can do to you? She's already abused you countless times and you can handle yourself pretty well against her.

Her expression sours at the question and you think she won't answer but she does, just not with what you want. "I'll answer but you need to drink up. You've been nursing the same drink for a while." She curls her lips up in disdain at your cup and you scowl back at her.

"I don't see what that has to do with talking to me."

"Because doctor, in vino veritas." She raises her cup at this and downs the rest of it. _In wine, truth._ It seems she wants to play this way. It seems the only way she will be comfortable with talking about her feelings will be when she is drunk. This is a habit you must break. But for now you will indulge her wild whims, as you have been one way or another forced to do so all day.

"Very well," you tell her, your face grim with the prospect of drinking so much. She slams her hand down in excitement and orders up a round of shots. They arrive mere seconds later, the vodka a clear color. There's five shots per person and no chaser.

"We're doing this straight?" You raise a brow, your hand hesitating on the first glass.

"Are you a chicken? Can't handle a little shot or two?" Her sneering lips taunt you and you tsk. "I can. You might not. You've already drank so much. Don't want you passing out."

"How touching," Bellatrix mocks. "Worried I'll drink myself to death and then you won't have anymore cash flowing from my sister's pockets?"

"Can't people be concerned for someone without an ulterior motive?"

"Not in this world. Everything we do we have a reason behind it. It's just the way humans are. We may not be aware of it but it's there." She taps her head. "Sigmund Freud. The ego, the id, and the superego."

"I am aware of that. So, is it safe to presume you have a reason for trying to get me drunk. Some other reason than trying to spill your secrets to me?" Your finger traces the rim of your glass.

Bellatrix sends a perfectly devilish look at you and lifts the first shot glass up. "Drink and you shall know." She tips the liquid into her mouth and you do the same. The curiosity to know something about her eats up at you and you know there must be a safer way to do it, like at a therapy session, but you're tired of failing over and over.

The shots are taken one after the other, all without chaser and you feel it hit you right away. Everything spins and becomes warm and fuzzy and you groan out as you set down the final glass down. This was a stupid idea. You've never gotten this drunk before in so quickly.

"More shots!" Bellatrix cries out and you know the shots hit her too. Her eyes are unfocused and her body sways in the seat. But then again that could be your vision. Your head is heavy and you prop it up with your hand, but your elbow slides over and you slouch down towards the table, your face a couple inches from the table top.

The empty shots are cleared up and more replace them.

"We're drinking that?" You point sloppily at the full drinks.

"Of course we are. Unless you are already drunk?"

"I'm not drunk. You are!" You sit up, the sharp motion making your eyes bounce around your head.

"I'm not," she affirms. "But you are."

"I am _not_." You whine like a little kid. Your ears are burning up from the alcohol in your veins and you feel sluggish but energetic at the same time.

"Then drink to prove me wrong."

You snatch the shots violently off of the table and down two of them straight away, only pausing to catch a breath before you take your third one. You smack the glasses hard to the table. "There," you burp out. You try to focus on her face but she seems very far away and you can't make out her face properly. You study her face for a while trying to make your eyes function. You can make out her lips, so full and soft looking, and her dark hair, tumbling around like a waterfall down her shoulders. You want to wrap your hands in it-and oh, looks like you're already doing it. You wrap your hands into it and tug it, trying to draw her closer to you. Closer so you can see her face, so you can touch those lips and discern for yourself if they really are as soft as they look. You're halfway out of your seat and leaning across the table when her hands come up and push yours away. You sit back down heavily into your seat, losing your balance from that small amount of force.

"Looks like someone is a little bit tipsy," she sings and you smile dumbly.

"Not me. You are."

She giggles at this and gets up from her seat, stumbling a bit. You get up as well, nearly tipping over face wards from getting up too quickly. "Where are you going?" you whine, worried that she is going to leave. "We have to talk. Have a girl to girl chat."

But she is already moving away and you follow after her, your head spinning and your feet stepping on the toes of people in your way. When did this place fill up? There's so many people. You roughly make your way through and exit the bar. It's night and the air is chilly and Bellatrix is making her way to the beach not even checking if you are behind her. You follow, nearly falling as you pick up your pace. You straighten yourself up, catching onto a lamp post before you nose dive to the concrete. This amuses you and you chuckle at your own self.

"Bellatrix. Bellatrix," you call out to her and she tosses a look over her shoulder but doesn't stop. The both of you are on the sand now, the sand squishing under your shoes. She pauses to take off her shoes and you do the same, almost ripping them off in your haste to get them off. They get flung randomly to the sides and you don't bother to pick them back up. Bellatrix leaves her's where they are and beckons to you with a finger to follow her.

"Where are we going?" you ask but she doesn't respond. The waves are crashing loudly in your ears and so is your heart. People are out on the beach at this hour, talking, walking, drinking, having a bonfire and playing games, but they might as well not exist. All you can focus on is her. You get to the water and it would have been cold if you weren't drunk but you are. She's in the water, wading in it thigh deep already. You don't stop to question it, just go in.

"We're going for a swim. You're going to see what it means to be alive." She threads to a rocky outcrop in the water and climbs up. It's cold and slimy and slippery and smells like a thousand dead things but you go up with her and she reaches out a hand when you can't get up by yourself. The sharp stones bite into the soft skin of your feet. The both of you trail the rocks, holding hands to keep each other steady. The rocks keep getting higher and higher up and when they end the both of you are standing pretty high up above the water. The waves pound below you, spray flecking the air. You can smell the ocean so strongly here and you close your eyes as you inhale. You exhale and open your eyes and Bellatrix is in your face. She's drunk but won't admit it and you laugh.

"What?" she mutters, no harsh tones at all in her words.

"Nothing nothing," you wave your free hand.

"Do you-do you know anti-drowning techniques?" she asks as she can't think of the word swimming right now, and you nod your head. Yea, you can swim.

"Good." She nods her head strongly and it nearly tumbles her off of her feet. But your conjoined hands hold her up. "Because we are going down there." She points to the water.

"We what-?" Your eyes open as wide as they drunkenly can and those are the last words before you let out as scream as she drags the both of you off of the cliff.

* * *

"You're fucking crazy," you let her know this for the fifteenth time in row as you lay with your back on the sand and look up at the stars. You almost fucking drowned. Your clothes and hair are drenched and the experience has taken some of the buzz off. What the fuck had you been thinking following her up there.

"Yea, yea. I know. I asked you if you could swim." Bellatrix says nonchalantly as if you almost drowning wasn't a big deal. She is squeezing out her hair, and sitting up next to you. Her clothes are drenched as well and it was her who saved your life, dragging you to shore and pumping the water out of your thin chest. "You're welcome by the way."

"Fuck off. I don't own you a thanks for putting my life in danger in the first place. 'Going to see what it feels like to be alive' my ass." You roll over and cough harshly, your lungs still burning from being filled with sea water. Some water trickles from your mouth.

"Looks like doctor Granger has a dirty mouth."

"Anyone would have a dirty mouth when it comes to you," you growl and roll onto your back again. The waves lap at your toes and you shiver to think how close you came to death right now. "You're a fucking menace to my life. And to anyone's life."

Bellatrix chuckled darkly. "Thanks for that compliment."

You sigh. This night was a failure. You hadn't come any closer to finding out anything about Bellatrix except that she liked almost dying and causing others to die too. "Sometimes in the dark depths everything becomes clear."

"What?" you close your eyes and wish you could melt into this sand. You're so tired right now.

There is a sigh from Bellatrix and the sand shifts as she draws closer over to you. She brings her knees up to her chest and puts her head on her knees. "What I'm saying is that sometimes you have to lower yourself so that you can see the truth that evades you otherwise."

"Hmm," you hum. You don't care about this right now, all you want to do is sleep. But you know you should care so you force yourself to remain awake. "So you want to drag me into the depths of your madness, of your world, so that I can understand and help you?"

There is silence. Bellatrix stares at the horizon. The ocean breeze moves her locks, playing with them and making the desire to touch them resurface in you again. You squash it down. "Why me? Why allow me of all people to help you? After all this time..." you open your eyes to look at her but she is still. Not a single twitch of her muscles or anything. You can't understand how someone who is so restless can suddenly become stone. It must be the fact that she is in nature and that it calms her.

The noise of the waves is relaxing and you eventually drift off waiting on Bellatrix's answer. Some time later you awake to the feeling of someone carrying you. You want to open your eyes to check but you're too tired and the place is too warm, the scent of sandalwood and berries lulling you back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number Nine: Ides of March_

* * *

The pounding of your head wakes you up and you already know it's going to be a rough day. Your body is stiff; it aches all over and your stomach churns from an impending hangover. You groan into your pillows, mildly confused. Since when were you sleeping on pillows? Last you had been on the sands. Thinking about it, there was no crashing of the waves, no scent of sea water only silence. You pick up your head from where it is buried in your white pillows and find yourself in your bed. But how? Your thoughts trail off when you see whose in bed with you. Your mouth sours. It's Bellatrix. And given the bare expanse of her back turned to you, you can tell she's not wearing clothes.

Oh god. Did you sleep with her? You scramble out of the bed, needing to get out of there. To get away from the instrument that brought this scandal into reality. But your limbs are too uncoordinated and you tangle yourself in your sheets, falling to the floor with a loud thump and dragging half the blankets down with you. This wakes up Bellatrix and she sits up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, other hand holding up the sheets to her chest. "Do you have to be so fucking loud first thing in the morning?" she grunts out, her voice raspy from slumber.

"Did we...did we..." you can't even finish the thought. Oh, this is so wrong. So, so wrong. You can't sleep with a patient. You can't. It goes all against the regulations.

Bellatrix rolls her dark orbs and drapes the sheets around her shoulders before rising off the bed. " I took you home since you were piss faced and took off your clothes. We were both wet from the ocean. There was no way we could sleep like that."

You look down and realize that you too are naked. You flush and quickly bunch up the fallen sheets around you. "Uh...so we didn't..."

"No, we didn't." She snorts at this and leaves to use the bathroom in your bedroom. "Now I'm going to shower because I feel gross." She slams the door behind her and you briefly put your head into your hands. Well, crisis averted. Relief fills your body. You go downstairs to shower as well, deciding some hot water will make you feel better.

When you come out, toweling your freshly washed hair and feeling slightly better, you see Bellatrix sitting in the dining room, legs crossed over the other and fingers twirling in her hair. She's staring out the window. It looks to be noon outside and a soft breeze is coming in through the open glass panes. She's wearing an outfit different from last night. It's a pair of shorts and a long sleeved collared black shirt. Where did she get those clothes? The realization strikes you a second later.

"Are you wearing my clothes?" you hiss at her and stamp your bare foot.

She lazily rolls her eyes over to you. "And what else was I going to wear? I didn't bring a change of clothes with me."

"But that's...that's just wrong," you sputter out, not knowing why you feel so weirded out by this. "You could have just borrowed a robe and put your clothes in the washer!"

"And miss out on seeing all your racy underwear?" Bellatrix bounds out of the chair and bounces up to you, hands behind her back as she leans forwards into your face. "You have a lot of tongs for someone who doesn't have a boyfriend." Her lips curl up in amusement at the blush on your face.

You give a scoff and brush past her, going into the kitchen, not deigning to reply. You need some pain medication. Your head is throbbing something dreadful. "No comment on that?" Bellatrix playfully asks, following you as you rummage through the drawers and pull out a tablet. Is one going to work?

"Is the doctor too shy to answer my question?" No, Bellatrix is here, so better to take two pills. You swallow them down dry. "Hmm?" Bellatrix cocks her head at you. From this close up you can smell your shampoo and body wash on her. It's a fruity mixture and it seems too sweet on her. Too innocent. Too wrong on her body. You miss her heavy spice scent, one that pulls you in, seduces you and begs to be smelled.

Wait, what?

Why are you thinking that?

"What do you want me to tell you? What is there even to say? You know what purpose underwear like that has." You can't even find the energy to care right now that she saw all that and is judging you hardcore. You just want to curl up into a chair and wait until the headache has gone away.

She steps away at this, allowing you to go to the living room where you plop down on a sofa, hand on your forehead. "You should invest in some push up bras, or at least some bigger ones. None of them fit me."

"Why should I buy you a bra? It's not like I was expecting this to happen. Like oh, hey Bellatrix is going to try to drown me in the ocean so just in case she decides to sleep over-"

"After she saves your life," Bellatrix points out, but you ignore the input.

"-I should have a bra and clothes ready for her." You raise your hands in emphasis. "I still don't like how you slept over. This is unethical for a doctor to do; to let his patients into his house, much less his _bed!_ I could get in trouble for this if anyone finds out. And what about Narcissa? Isn't she going to be worried about you? How did you get past her?" You would keep going on a spiel when a thought gives you pause. "Wait a second, did you _try_ on my underwear?" You raise your head to look at her. She's sitting perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over her chest and chin raised haughtily. Her semi wet curls still drip with water yet still somehow manage to retain their bounciness. She doesn't need to say anything. Her look is enough.

"I can't believe you," you mutter out and rub your face in exhaustion.

"I wasn't going to walk around without underwear. It's bad enough I'm going bra-less because your tits are too small and you don't have bras to fit me. Although I know how much you'd love it if I were to walk around naked," is her response.

"Oh god. Don't give me back the underwear. Just keep it at this point." You don't want to think about it but you wonder which pair she's wearing right now.

There is silence before: "So, are you not going to offer me food or a drink even?"

"What? Why should I? This is my house-"

"Exactly, and I am your guest. Therefore it's rude not to offer me something."

You shoot her a dirty look. You are not in the mood to be around food right now. If you are then you'll know what the contents of your stomach look like. "How come you're not suffering like me?" You can't keep the whine out of your voice on this.

"I am a Black. My family line comes from nobility. We do not fall to such things as liquor."

"Well then, if that's the case make your own food," you groan out, feeling disgusted just at the use of the word food.

She sucks her teeth at you but gets off the couch and gets to work in the kitchen. "Also you're free to leave, anytime you want. The sooner the better actually," you remind her. She doesn't answer, the banging of pots and pans in your kitchen rattling your head. When the first waft of food drifts out you scramble up and retreat upstairs, not wanting to even smell food.

Back in your bed you fall into the folds of your messy blankets and knock out again. When you wake up, it's darker outside and you feel much better. The headache has passed and you feel actually hungry. You go downstairs and find that Bellatrix has left you something wrapped up on the table. There's a little note in her sloppy handwriting. You pluck it up. "Don't worry, I didn't poison it." You snort at that and throw the note out before you dig into the omelet. It's cold by this point but you don't care. Done with that you decide to head over to paint, your brain too fried to think about work. You change into your painters clothes and come face to face to the portrait of Bellatrix that you had left unfinished. It's like you remembered it last time. But now that you look at it you realize it's missing something. You've captured her likeness but...not her essence, the thing that makes her _her_. You decide to set to work and fix it but no matter what colors or shades or depths you add to it, it doesn't seem right.

You sigh and throw down your brush in frustration. There is something you are not getting but you don't know what. Will you ever get it?

* * *

Monday comes and so does the appointment with Bellatrix. Instead of taking place in your office, you drive the two of you to another location. "Today is a day for you to understand me. To understand my perspective on life," you tell her as you tap your thumbs on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change.

"And where are you taking me?" She asks. She is playing with the window button on the door. It goes up and down. "Stop that," you reprimand her but like a little kid she sticks out her tongue at you. Her voluminous hair is held up in a high ponytail. How she ever got it to look like that you don't know. It must have taken a lot of elastics to hold it in place.

"I'm taking you someplace special to me," you answer her previous question.

"Thanks for the very enlightening answer," she sarcastically mutters. When you pull into a bookstore parking lot five minutes later she lets out a groan. "Of course leave it to you to take us to a fucking bookstore. How boring."

"It's not boring. I figured since you liked Crime and Punishment so much, that you would like to enrich your intellect."

"You're going to buy me a book?" There's a hint of childish hope in her voice despite her trying to cover it with disgust.

"Don't tell me you want one?"

"No." Oh yea, she does want one.

"Maybe if you're a good girl, I'll buy you one." You mock and turn the car off, exiting it.

"If I'm a good girl," she mimics back, her tone higher. She snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. You step into the store and the cool ac blasts you. The inside smells of books, one of your favorite scents in this world. You smile at the store keeper who at this point knows you very well. His smile wavers when he sees who comes in after you. It looks like he's had a previous altercation with Bellatrix and doesn't trust her in his store.

"Hello, Hermione," the old man greets you. His long beard trails down to his waist and his half moon spectacles come off as he wipes them down quickly on his tie-dye shirt. "I see you are back for more books. Can't keep you sated for long, huh?"

"I love books. If I could marry one I would," you jest with him.

"Ah, and which one would it be? The count of Monte Crisco or Les Miserables?"

"Can we get a move on here?" Bellatrix interrupts, coming up next to you. Her lips turn into a leer. "Hello Albus."

"Hello Bellatrix." His voice is tight and his smile a thin line. "I hope all is well. And that you won't be causing any trouble here today." She snorts at this.

You feel the need to diffuse the situation. "Don't worry Albus, I'll be keeping an eye on her. She's my patient and I've decided to give her some exposure therapy."

He nods his head. "I trust you Hermione. I don't trust _her_. Last time she was here, she knocked over all the bookshelves and crushed a worker under them, breaking his legs."

"I was trying to prove how unsafely your bookshelves were positioned. If they hadn't been all next to each other than they never would domino-ed and crushed that guy's legs."

"Bellatrix," you huff, scandalized. "How old are you to be doing something like that?"

"What?" Bellatrix spreads out her hands. "I proved how dangerous it was. He changed all the bookshelves. No one will get crushed under them now. You're welcome," she spits at the older man whose face scowls.

"I was sued. That was not helpful at all to me."

This conversation is not going to lead to anywhere productive. "Okay, we're going to have a look around," you grab Bellatrix's hand and tug her away from the old man with much force. She is reluctant to leave, spitting out hurtful phrases at him.

"Can you not even behave at a bookstore," you hiss at her as you climb up the stairs to the section you want. People in the store are shooting looks at Bellatrix and there are a couple of hushes aimed at her. She is disrupting the peace.

"No one told you to bring me to a fucking bookstore," she turns on you and you roll back your shoulders, releasing her hand before facing her. "I'm bringing you here because it's my day today. I had to do stupid things you wanted me to do. Must I remind you I almost drowned. You practically killed me twice already."

"Not intentionally," she defends.

"So the first time when you ambushed me in my house wasn't purposeful or planned out?" Your nostrils flare. This is a very sore point for you still.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "I already told you I wasn't going to kill you. It was meant to scare you. What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?" She says sarcastically.

"You know, an apology would be great. It's what people do when they mess up."

"I never mess up. I already told you, I only do things that I want to do."

"So then you do want to be in this bookstore, because you're inside it." You smile at this, because you've caught her. She knows this and her shoulder's tense.

"No, I don't want to be here. So I'll be leaving," she turns on her heels and you lunge forward and grab her around the waist without even thinking about it. "Oh no you don't. You are going through this. If I had to dine and dash despite my whole body revolting against that issue then you are doing this too no matter how much you don't want to."

"Let me go!" She hisses at you and scratches at your hands but you hold on tight, ignoring the sting of her short nails. You drag her backwards as she tries to move forwards. "How would the office react when they found a therapist of theirs wasn't respecting their patients wishes and resorting to using force against them?"

Her whispered threat works and you relax your grip on her, your hands dropping to your sides. She's right. What are you doing? You shouldn't be acting this way, you shouldn't be coercing her to participate. She turns around at this and grabs you by the face, knocking your heads painfully together. You hiss and wince, ripping your head free of her hold. "That was for trying to attack me," she says patronizingly. "And I do realize that I do owe you. We made a deal after all. But you're buying me a drink after this."

"Fine," you huff out, glad she's willing to agree to you for now. You lead the way to the back section of the building, the wooden floorboards creaking under foot. This area is deserted and is your favorite spot to be in. There's two beanbags here and a small round window overhead that lends natural sunlight to you. You scan the books on the shelves, pulling out the one you want.

"Are you going to be reading me a bed time story?" Bellatrix asks derisively, plopping down on the green beanbag. You take the red one in front of her. "No, I thought we could have a discussion. Last time you came over to my house we had a nice chat on Crime and Punishment and I figured we could do the same here. Did you not enjoy it?" You ask when her face remains neutral. She shrugs at this. "I didn't dislike it," she admits. "But now you owe me three drinks."

"I don't think so. Your last alcohol spree cleaned out my wallet."

Bellatrix had returned your wallet back to you and it was empty, only a couple cents in it. All your hard earned cash-over two hundred dollars of it-was gone. You hadn't even realized when. "Then bring more cash with you. I know Cissy gives you more than enough to buy three houses on the beach."

You feel tempted to roll your eyes at that. Three beach houses is a gross over-exaggeration. "Look, I don't make money so I can spend it haphazardly. I do it so that I can save up."

"Save up for what?"

You shrug. "Isn't that the smart thing to do? To have money for the later years of your life?"

Bellatrix doesn't answer this, just gets up and runs a slender finger over the spines of the books, settling on one and pulling it out. She cracks the cover over and reads out from it. It's a psychology book. "If you want to know me, understand this: It is quite possible-overwhelmingly probable, one might guess-that we will always learn more about human life and personality from novels than from scientific psychology."

"Noam Chomsky," you say, nodding your head in consideration. It seems she wants to start from there. She's coming at your livelihood; that science won't help her. She's telling you you are trying to get to know her the wrong way. She'll never admit aloud that she wants to be helped. It comes in these clues. You wonder briefly how she knows about this man, but perhaps given how much time she spent with therapists she might have picked up a thing or too.

"I was supposed to be a therapist, you know," she says softly, so softly that you almost don't hear it. Sadness chimes in with her voice. You want to say 'what?' but don't, in fear that if you do it will break the atmosphere she is in, in this mood so different from her others. She is pensive, drawn in. "I was the brightest of my age..." she closes the book and bites her bottom lip, looking up and away from it, up into the rafters of the place as if seeing ghosts from her past there. "But they, they couldn't stand to let a woman upstage them."

"Who?" your voice is hoarse and you fear to speak but you need to know who. Darkness descends on her face. She answers, in a voice full of disgust and contempt.

"Tom Riddle."

You know his name. He's a famous psychologist who has made many break through's in his field. You look up to him. You don't see how he has anything to do with Bellatrix's current position however.  
"They all did this to me. They did it. It's all their fucking fault!" Her outburst catches you off guard and she throws the book on the floor violently before she runs down the stairs. "Bellatrix wait!" You shout out after her and rush down. She's pushing people roughly out of the way and knocking books off of table displays.

"Hey! What did I tell you!" Albus's voice sounds. He is mad.

"Shut it faggot!" She snarls at him, tossing a dictionary at his head, which he ducks, and then she is out the door, slamming it so hard the glass shatters in the bottom pane.

"I'm so sorry," you tell Albus as you maneuver around the loose pages and crumpled books and rumpled bags on the floor. "I'll pay for the damages."

You don't have time to hear his response because you exit the store, following the sound of Bellatrix's loud cursing. She is shaking all over and screaming at the top of her lungs. People on the streets give her a wide berth. You catch up to her and hook your arms under her armpits.

"Bellatrix calm down! Calm down!" you order but she can't hear you over her screaming. She's waving her arms and her legs and you use every last muscle in your body to drag her off the streets. She squirms, and tries to hurt you to free herself from your grip.

"That motherfucker took everything from me! He fucking took everything! Don't hold me back. Don't hold me back." Her words are barely coherent and she tries to pull you downwards as she rages. You pull her up. You can feel people's stares on you but you ignore them. You need to get her to a park, some place in nature. You know it will calm her down. "I will kill him. I will wipe this stain off of humanity!"

"Calm down, calm down. Bellatrix, stop this. We're going to go to a park, okay? To nature. Remember that it calms you down." You repeat over and over to her over her cries. It's terrible to hear her like this. It's like her very soul is being ripped out of her body. It chills you to the bone.

By some miracle you drag her into a park and situate her on a bench. Her tiny body is filled with more strength than you would have thought. Once on the bench she tries to get up once more but you wrap your arms around her sides, pinning her arms to her sides. She twists and turns, trying to slide out of your grip and to the ground but you hold her up. Your muscles are screaming in pain but you hold on and keep murmuring to her in soothing tones about how beautiful the park is, how serene the weather, how nice the sun looks. Eventually her screams die down and all that is left is her taking and exhaling shuddering breaths. She's shaking in your arms, and now, instead of your arms containing the human equivalent of a supernova explosion, you are trying to hold up broken pieces of porcelain. She turns her head into the crook of your neck and you can hear her sniffling. Something wet hits your neck and you know she is crying.

"Sh...it's going to be okay," you whisper to her, your arms wrapping up to her shoulders supportively and soothingly running through her hair. "We need to talk about this Bellatrix. If it makes you flip out this much-ah!" Her teeth find purchase in your collarbone and you take that as a no. "Fine. We won't." She releases your skin and the two of you sit in silence.

And as the sun dips down below the horizon, bringing with it a chill, you wonder what it is that Tom Riddle did to Bellatrix that ruined her like this.

 **A/N: Hmmm, what role will Voldemort play in this story? For the purposes of keeping it a human au I am keeping the dark lord as his human persona.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Number Ten: Ecce Homo_

* * *

The alternative therapy sessions continued after that. Even though Bellatrix had flipped out she was back the following Wednesday because her sister wouldn't let her skip out. You felt bad for making Bellatrix regress last time but at least you had a better clue as to the sore subjects for her.

The sessions begin to fall into a recognizable pattern. She organized and set up plans and you drove the both of you on hiking trips, on road trips to ski resorts, to camping, to rock climbing, to zip-lining, white water rafting, etc-all sports related. She never quite struck you as the outdoorsy type, given her pale skin and royal cheekbones. Piano playing or fine art seemed to fit her better. But there were many layers to her, many conceptions, that you were learning to break or to rewrite when it came to her.

And while all these excursions were draining your bank account, you couldn't complain too much. Not only were you out in the world learning more about it, you were also getting fresh air and exercise, and though you would never admit it out-loud, you were inexplicably having fun with Bellatrix on these trips. She knew so much about nature, and you swallowed up the information about the various plant life and fauna she offered with the patience of an instructor, as always eager to learn more.

You had thought the trips would be irritating, given her sharp temper and even sharper tongue, but she was always tranquil when in nature and it soothed you. Even if there was an unforeseen hiccup with the hiking gear, or a shortage of food or water, she handled it professionally, gently instructing you what could be done to alleviate the issue. The two of you were a team in the wilderness, there was a mutual respect between each other and an understanding. Though she didn't talk about herself, didn't teach you anything new about her, her actions spoke louder than her words. You learned more about her in those moments than you ever did in that office of yours.

It was almost like she was a different person.

And you enjoyed this side of her, dreading when the trips would be over. For as soon as the two of you left nature behind, she'd turn back into her old self. Hard headed and troublesome. And distrusting of you.

The other aspect of the 'living a day in her life program', social misconduct, was something you didn't want to engage in, or understand, and you were explicitly clear with your opinions on this issue. She had seemed upset about it, saying then that you wouldn't get the full picture of her, but you had told her that her records painted enough of a picture of what her 'hobbies' looked like. Then she had pouted but you had ignored her because you had an idea that she only wanted a partner in crime and not that she actually cared about you getting to understand her more.

So she had begrudgingly given up on trying to get you to break the rules, (thankfully) although there was still the one time you entered a drag race. It took place in the outer skirts of the town. How she got it arranged had you question her connections, not that she answered when you asked.

It was night time and you were facing off with this young looking man who was supposed to race you for a bit of fun. His car was decked out with the full package. It had spoils, an under-glow and a giant engine sticking out the front hood. You and your Nissan did not look anywhere as intimidating or cool. Still, it was too late to back out. Money was bet and you swore to her that if she got the both of you tossed into jail you were going to sue her.

"Good luck with that. I don't have a penny to my name. Also, I'm driving."

"Not in my car! I have a good reputation. I don't want my insurance to go up if you crash it."

"We're not taking that piece of junk. We're taking this bad boy." She pointed at a third car on the road, one you had noticed before but assumed it belonged to someone else.

"That car?" It looked wicked cool, the finish so shiny it was like a dark mirror. Everything about it is black, from the tinted windows to the rims. The only none black thing about it is the under-glow. It's red. The car is literally Bellatrix personified and you wonder if it's as temperamental to handle as her.

The two of you get into the car and you strap yourself in, wishing the car had more belts. "Did you buy it? Does Narcissa know?"

"Yes, and no. And I don't intend to have her find out. You are not telling her. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

You raise your hands up in defeat. She starts the engine and it's loud, like a booming monster. It rumbles and roars, shaking the car with it's might. "Holy shit this is loud," you shout.

Bellatrix just grins and adjusts her rear view mirror. Her eyes are alive with maniac excitement and you swallow, feeling incredibly nervous. You had agreed to do this, because she had demanded that if you weren't going to partake in social misconduct with her, the least you could do was indulge her in one last big blowout event and then she'd leave you alone. That had been the deal, written and signed on paper. Whether she'd uphold her end of the bargain remained to be seen, given her mood changes or whatever took her fancy on a certain day. You hoped, for your own health, that she would be true to her word.

It hadn't sounded so bad on paper-just a simple drag race. People drove cars fast all the time and it was fine. But now, sitting in the belly of the monster, you were having different thoughts. About how this was a really bad idea. A really, _really_ , bad one. You can feel how bad it is down to your bones; their quaking, although that might in part have to do more with the thrumming of the car's engine than with your fear.

A person hits the top of Bellatrix's hood and she moves up to line up with the orange car of her opponent. Your fingers wrap around your seat belt and you try to hold in the panic that threatens to rip out of you.

The orange car revs its engine and Bellatrix does likewise, the two cars trying to see who can get it up the loudest. It rattles inside your head, not at all helping your anxiety. You think this is by far the stupidest thing you've let yourself be roped up into. Even stupider than the cliff diving.

Which reminds you, that it had been about two months since she almost caused your death a second time. Would this count as a third time? Did she have like some sort of timer internally that said she needed to make an attempt on your life every several months? Your panic only increases at that absurd thought.

"Bellatrix, I don't think we should do this," you whisper to her, having last second doubts, and naturally she doesn't catch it over the screams of the engines. "Bellatrix," you whine, hating how pleading you sound. You are about to tap her on the shoulder when there is a loud whistle and shouts hit the air. The rubber tires squeal and you are thrown back into your seat as the car rocks forwards.

Your eyes gape open and you hold onto the dashboard, onto the seat, onto whatever you can, your hands clawing the nearby surroundings frantically. The road is dark, only lit up by the headlights of the cars. The landscapes blur around you two and the needle inches up well past the speed limit.

"Bellatrix, stop this. Stop this car right now!" You cry out, appalled by the sharp turn coming up. Oh god, you aren't going to make it! The wind roaring in through the windows rips away your words and tangles them into your flying hair. Bellatrix isn't even aware you are next to her. Her eyes are on the road, her grip iron on the wheel. She twists it to the side and your body collides with the door of the car. The tires screech, the smell of burning rubber hitting the air. Then she tugs the steering wheel sharply again and the car rights itself as does your body. The orange car of her opponent is close to your car, the turn having made him draw closer. He is an inch or two away and he flips Bellatrix off through his open window.

She lets out an angry growl, and presses down on the gas. The car lurches forwards. _I can't take this anymore. I can't. We're going to die. She's going to fling our bodies off of the side of the fucking road at a million miles per hour._ You close your eyes and try to tune this all out as best as you can. It helps. You are still somewhat aware of the twists and turns that Bellatrix takes but without actively watching it happen, it helps you to pretend like this is all a bad dream. All a very, _very_ , bad dream.

Still, the bad dream takes a while to end and when you at last feel the car jerk to such a stop that the car slides sideways, the seat belt digging into your chest as it holds your body from hitting the windshield, only then do you open your eyes. And you see that Bellatrix has crossed the finish line first. Smoke is still rising from how she stopped, burning rubber and the scent of gas in the air. Her hands are loose on the wheel now and other than her wind tossed hair, strands everywhere, no one could have told that she was just in a drag race. She looks calm, like she had just went out on a Sunday morning ride for groceries.

"So," she speaks to you without turning to look at you. She's busy eyeing the orange car that is now approaching the finish line. "I just made enough money to pay you back for all those nice trips you've been taking me on. I want a trip to Las Vegas." She turns to you at this, smiling and you can't help yourself. You punch her hard in the arm. This doesn't stop her from smiling.

"I can't believe- just- you're terrible, I hope you know that," you tell her, not able to vocalize just what exactly has you more mad-that fact that she took you on such a terrifying experience, or the fact that she did this race to repay you for paying for all those trips you took her on. She is unbelievable.

"I take it you're not a fan of racing. I'll go collect my money then," she drives the car over to where people are standing around. They are holding a case of money that was the bet for the winner of the race and she takes it after exchanging some words. You don't care to listen to what they are saying, too eager to be back in your Nissan. Your safe and not used for racing car.

You sit in the driver's seat and for the rest of the way back you drive at barely ten miles an hour. This pisses Bellatrix off but you don't dare to go any faster, your heart still thumping in your chest over your earlier fear during the race. Bellatrix grumbles and tries to get you to go faster, saying she could walk faster than you were driving. So you tell her the door is unlocked and that she could help herself to it. All she did was snort at this and prop her chin up in her hand.

From then on Bellatrix helped to pay for the trips the two of you took, which was kind and responsible of her. (Thankfully, no more drag racing. You didn't even want to scold her for this illegal activity because you did not want to relive the fear of that experience.) Anything sports related, or nature related and you and her were guaranteed to be there. Your muscles, aching and weak at first, gradually took on definition. Your skin got tan from hours out in the sun. Her skin, however, never got any darker than the inside of a coconut and you wondered how.

While annoying at first, you got used to the early hours of these trips. She takes you to amazing places that she's always wanted to go to. For the longer trips you drive on the weekends, going to Nevada or Arizona, to see the nature there. These trips invigorate your life. They bring a breath of fresh air. They make you feel alive.

You still remember the first time you went zip-lining. You were so scared to get off the platform that you had clung onto the ropes and held up the line for a half hour. Once you had gone that high up your feet had frozen rock hard to the platform and you weren't going anywhere, the ground spinning below you. Bellatrix had lost her patience with waiting for you to go so she had told you she would push on three. She lied and pushed you as soon as the words were out her mouth. You made the most ungodly noise from your mouth, clinging onto the rope for your life but when you got off on the other end you felt alive. You felt like you had conquered something. The rest of the day you were the one who spent the most time zip-lining. Bellatrix had to wrestle you away from the ropes so that the both of you could go home.

And then there had been the kayaking. The rush of water, the ravaging waves, threatening to suck you in and spit out your bones, had your heart beating like a drum and foolish irrepressible grin plastered onto your face. And each trip, the both of you wound down with a drink at bar and a swim on the beach. (There was no cliff jumping this time, thankfully, as neither of you got shit faced enough to be that stupid.)

On the days that it was your turn, you went on more intellectual activities. You went book hunting, to TED talks, to conventions. Or you went to artsy stuff. To arts and craft days in the local stores, to painting classes, to drawing classes. She wasn't calm there like she was in nature and often gave more trouble on these trips. But she tried and that was important, for under all her grumbling at your stupid lame 'mom' activities, you could see her eyes gleaming with hidden interest and joy. She liked being able to create with her hands though she was never patient enough to spend long amounts of time creating anything. She liked being able to debate certain sides of controversial issues, to show off her intellect and she was really smart. When she felt like it she could use highly sophisticated words and she knew a lot about classical literature and especially about psychology. While you wanted to ask more about that field, you were worried it might trigger something involving Tom Riddle and so left it be for now. You didn't want to ruin the trust and relationship you were building with your patient. You didn't want her to clam up, for the both of you talked. Really talked. Almost like friend's, compared to your earlier back and forth with sharp words and insults thrown in and skirting around anything resembling a concise topic. You were happy by this progress yet something was missing that was tickling at the back of your head and wouldn't give you rest.

And that was the fact that no matter how much the two of you talked it was always a superficial level of conversation. This bothered you greatly. It had been six months now. Six months of therapy with Bellatrix and she wasn't making any substantial progress. It was all sciolistic, just like the conversations. Never touching on the real issues.

You brought it up one night with her because you were losing patience. You were enjoying these therapy sessions but you needed results and your patient wasn't giving any. And what would be the point of this 'exposure therapy' if there was nothing to gained from it?

The two of you were out camping. It was a chilly night as it was the end of winter in California. Clad in sweaters and lying on blankets on the grass, the two of you gazed up at the stars.

"Did you know I was named after a star?" Bellatrix spoke, breaking the symphony that the night bugs had been playing.

"Really?" you turned to look at her. Her gaze is locked on the balls of gas in the inky sky. Her features look extra pale in the moonlight and her hair extra dark, almost like a high contrast picture. You wish you could take a photo right now to capture this look so you could paint it.

"I'm that one," she points her finger up.

"That one?" you unsuccessfully try to point it out yourself.

"No, a little more to the side." She grabs your hand with hers and moves it over so that it's correctly aligned. Her cool fingers linger on your palm and she drags your hand over to point out other stars. "And that one is Andromeda, a galaxy. She's the baby of the family. Draco, Narcissa's ten year old son, is a star too. He's that one. Narcissa is the only one who wasn't named after a star. She gets her name from a flower."

Done pointing out the stars she lets go of your hand and turns to her side to face you. You do the same, her dark eyes staring into you. "The tale of narcissus. Why is it she has a flower name?"

Bellatrix shrugs, her voice a soft whisper. "I don't know. I've never really given it much thought. I guess maybe they wanted her to be different. The funny part is she turned out to be the most like them of all of us."

"Like your parents?" You whisper. Your faces are really close and you can feel her breath brush against your face as she speaks. "Yea. Like them." She swallows deeply and licks her lips before she continues. "They had high standards for us. Standards we couldn't live up to."

"Are you ever going to tell me?" you can feel Bellatrix shrink back at this, like a demon from holy water. You don't let her turn back around. You grab her face with one hand and force her to face you. "Bellatrix, it has been six months. How much more trust do I have to show you, how much more pain must I endure at your hand, so that you can tell me what's wrong?"

Her hand comes up to yours and her eyes flicker up and down your face before she rips your hand off and gets up hurriedly.

"Others have waited more than six months to know, doctor." With that she runs off barefoot into the woods. You sit up, disappointment making your stomach heavy. You look into the dark where she went and shake your head. You can't do this anymore. No matter how much of yourself you put out there she isn't changing. You've broken rules for her, not just societal but procedural therapy rules as well. And since it hasn't garnered the results you wanted you will quit this. You're sorry to say this but even the best therapist can't help if the patient won't let them.

You will give her another two weeks and if she doesn't break down than you will break this up.

* * *

The next weekend it turns out she is going on a family trip with Narcissa, Draco and Lucius to Canada. She won't be back until Monday afternoon. This leaves you with a free weekend and suddenly you don't know what to do. Before the weekend was filled with Bellatrix's last minute schemes and plans. And now it's...so calm and peaceful. You can't sit in your house by yourself. It makes you restless. So on Saturday you hang out with some people from the office but when Sunday rolls around you are subsequently bored. You head out to Ginny's bar. You haven't seen her ever since Bellatrix caused that bar brawl.

When you get there you see that Ron is the bartender.

"Where's Ginny?" you ask.

"She's taking the night off. The usual?"

You nod your head and he hands you a whiskey on the rocks. "How long you working for?"

"About till closing. Haven't seen you in a while. How's everything?"

"Good. I've been out a lot."

"Yea, I noticed. You look a lot darker than before."

"Is it really that noticeable?"

"Yes, I mean, I noticed. But like, I wasn't trying to be creepy about it. Sorry." Ron blushes as he stumbles over his words. He always says the darnest things when he's around you.

"That's fine." You sip on your drink and tap on the counter top, giving quick glances around the bar. "You've upgraded it a bit."

"Yea. We decided we ought to. It was looking a bit dingy and all."

"Hmm." You comment and take another sip. He scrubs the counter in front of you. You can feel him bursting with the need to ask you something so you wait for him to spill.

"Say."

"Yea?"

"If you're uh, not doing anything after this, you wanna go hang out or something?"

When the look on your face remains blank he stumbles to add more. "It won't just be the two of us. Ginny and the twins, we all missed you and we wanna catch up."

The poor boy seems to be asking you out but is failing miserably. You shake your head to turn him down. "Sorry, but I need to go home early tonight. I have work tomorrow. But maybe another time?"

He nods his head, clearly upset, but he has no option but to take this answer. The rest of the night passes in amiable conversation and you drink down three, four, five glasses before the clock hits two and it is time to go home. You get off the stool a bit clumsily and Ron rushes over to help you. You brush off his help. "I'll be fine," you slur.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"I'm fine. I got this." You brush past him and go outside. The air is sharp on your face but you are impervious to the cold. You pull out your phone to call the cab only to have it slip from your grip and clatter onto the floor. You bend over to pick it up when a woman walking past you stops, bends over and lifts it up for you. Your eyes linger on her, even when she hands the phone over. She has pale skin and dark curly hair and she looks stunning.

"You dropped your phone."

"Uh, thanks," you say dumbly, not able to take your eyes off of her. She slides the phone into your hand and you look at it. It's not scratched or anything, thankfully.

She giggles lightly at the look of rapture on your face and you hold out your phone to her. "I think it's broken," you insist.

"Really?" her face breaks out into confusion.

"Yea, it doesn't have your number in it."

* * *

Your alarm wakes you up next morning and you groan as you get out of bed. Your body aches from last night and you want to sleep in more but you've already snoozed the alarm too many times. If you wait any longer you will be late. A pile of dark curls is lying on the pillow next to yours and you go to shake them awake.

"Hmmh, what?" the voice grunts out.

"I have to go to work. You need to leave."

"Fine," the girl, Sasha, you recall, climbs out, her makeup from last night smudged around her eyes.

You spent the last night with her, the first person you have had in months, not having time before for yourself because Bellatrix had commanded so much of it. You don't know what convinced you to hit on Sasha, (actually you might know but you are not going to psychoanalyze yourself) or what convinced her to come with you. That pickup line from last night was awful. You didn't even know she was into girls. It really was such a weird coincidence.

You rush off to work after she leaves and are sitting in your office, setting up your papers, checking emails at the desk completely not expecting to have Bellatrix show up. "Knock knock doctor." She knocks on the door frame, in a really good mood and flitting into the room.

"Bellatrix," you nearly choke on your sip of your coffee. "I thought you weren't due back until this evening." You wipe the dribble of liquid that has made its way down your chin.

"Things happened and I had to leave. Immediately. Or else they were going to call the police." She sits down lightly in the chair.

"Of course," you sigh. "Why am I not surprised a family reunion involving you would go wrong."

"And that was my weekend. How was yours?" Bellatrix smiles at you, eyeing you. Her grin rapidly drops and her eyes harden. "What is that on your neck?" Her tone is icy.

"On my neck?" you clamp a hand to your neck. Shit, the hickeys. You were in a rush to get here and had completely forgotten to check if you had any. You pull out a hand mirror and indeed, there they are, a whole row up and down your neck. You look like you were in a fight. They look awful.

"I guess you like to whore yourself out on the weekends," Bellatrix grits out through her teeth and you don't understand where all this hostility is coming from.

"And why do you care so much?" you shoot back at her. This causes her to cross her arms and legs and to look away sharply. Her leg jiggles incessantly. "Bellatrix?" And that's it. For the rest of the session she will not talk to you at all.

Every time you think you've made progress with her there is always a step back that needs to be taken. You wonder how irreparable the damage is this time.

 **A/N: I didn't spend much time detailing Hermione's and Sasha's interactions because I don't really care to focus too much on that. Sasha was made up for the story for one reason only and you guys will get to see what it is soon.**

 **Also the idea of Bellatrix and Hermione drag racing cracks me up! I knew I had to put it in.**


	11. Chapter 11

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Eleven: Murderous Silence_

* * *

You don't expect Bellatrix to speak to you on Wednesday and you are right. She goes in, crosses her legs and arms and looks away to the wall till her neck strains itself. How she doesn't hurt her neck like that is a miracle. You don't even try to talk to her. You just sit there in silence and fill out paperwork, or take calls from people looking to arrange appointments. Then when the timer rings, Bellatrix leaves, slamming the door so hard the glass pane rattles. You try to act unaffected by this silence but it eats at you. You were getting so close to her and then she shut down completely. Why? Was she jealous of the hickeys? There was no reason for her to be. You sigh and rub your head in exasperation. Thinking about it gets you nowhere.

At home you go over her case files, pouring over them to the minute detail. There must be something in here that could help you get through this. Hours and hours pass and your eyes blur on the words. The sentences you've read swirl around your head and you close your tired eyes. Something sparks in your head; the right connections have finally been made. You figured it out at last. You may have just cracked the case on Bellatrix but you don't feel any great revelation at this, or any joy, just tiredness. It looks like time has come to end things with Bellatrix. You can't keep doing this. This game has to end.

When she arrives on her Saturday appointment she finds you sitting in her chair. She pauses, thrown off by this. You smile when you see her and go up to her. "Bellatrix, I know you don't want to talk to me anymore. But perhaps it's for the better. I've decided to call off the sessions. Today is your last one; there is no need to show up anymore. You're free. I won't be bothering you anymore." You smile at her, the smile not reaching your eyes. Your tone is jovial but you feel bad inside. There is no other option to take.

"What?" Bellatrix's voice wavers as she asks this. Her eyes are wide.

"You are no longer my patient. And I no longer your therapist." You press a hand to your chest, slowly saying the words.

"You're just giving up on me?" Her voice is full of fear disguised as anger. "What happened to not giving up? What happened to you being different?"

You shrug nonchalantly at this. "I tried. You won't tell me anything. You won't let me help you." You turn your back on her and her hand grabs you by the shoulder and spins you around.

"I'm not done talking to you," she hisses at you.

"I'm done talking to you." You smack her hand away, your eyes hard. "It's a waste of time."

Her nostrils flare and her face gets paler if that is even possible. "I'm a waste? A waste you say? You want me to open up but I have no clue what to say to you because I'm not fucking crazy!" She is shaking in anger and the books on the shelf nearest to her fall to the floor in one fluid sweep of her arm. You sit down at your desk and just watch patiently, folding your hands together.

"They all call me it. They all think it. I'm forever ruined and it's all that man's _**fault**_!" The chair flips over, the papers on your desk are thrown to the floor. Still she rages, shaking with the need to destroy. There is the sound of glass breaking.

"It's all his fault. I will never forgive him for what he did to me. I thought you of all people would know. I thought you would understand. You treated me differently than the others did. You stood up to me. You let me show you my world. And that meant a lot...a lot to me." She quiets down at this, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. She sounds close to tears and her shoulders are now shaking with trying to hold this all back.

"I'm not crazy." Her whisper comes out pleading.

Given the state of your office, one could argue otherwise but you don't discredit her.

"I believe you."

She looks up at this, disbelieving. Her eyes are rimmed red. "You do?" Her face looks so fragile now that you know one single wrongly placed word could ruin everything. Could break her forever.

"Yes. You're not insane. You have anger issues, yes, but that doesn't mean you're crazy." Your voice is steady and even; cool and strong and it shocks you that you are so calm. But you speak the truth. Going over her files you found out that she was over diagnosed. And it all started with Tom Riddle who had analyzed her first. You still don't know what her relation with him was, or what, or how he had arrived at the conclusion but it all made sense as to why she hated him so much.

"Is that true?" She approaches you, her voice soft. She had been so used to being called crazy that it was a breath of fresh air to find out she wasn't. Here, a doctor was telling her that after all this time, she was normal.

"Yes."

"And you're not lying to me?"

"No."

Her hands come up to her mouth and she looks like she doesn't know how to react to this. Happiness, sadness, relief, disbelief, caution, all swirl in her features. Then she throws herself on you and gives you a hug. You freeze up at this, not expecting this action but let yourself relax into it. You stay like this for a long time until you can feel her excess emotions bleeding away. "Now what do we do?" she asks against your neck and your skin tingles where her lips touch.

You hadn't really thought this part out. You hadn't really been sure what Bellatrix's reaction to all this would be, but you find yourself speaking up, the words falling into place and feeling right, and you know you want to make them true. "I figure out what it is that Tom Riddle did to you and I get the labels removed. But you will need to help me."

You think she will refuse to do so but after a while there is nod, so small it's barely there. "And what about therapy?"

"You won't have to go if you don't want to. After all, you're not legally insane."

Her lips drag up to your ear and you try to hold back the goosebumps that they bring. "I want to keep coming." Her breath is warm and you feel your ears heat up.

 _Please don't use the word coming. It gives the wrong idea._

"Okay. You can do that. But we will be focusing on your anger issues." The timer rings and only then does Bellatrix remove herself from you. She lets out a long sigh that expels her stress into the world. Her hand combs through her inky locks as she gazes around the office. "I really did a number on this, didn't I?"

It looks like your room was hit by a tornado. And it matches; Bellatrix is a force of nature, all her wild energy crackling around her. She always needs an output for it. But you wonder how much of it is just her mind subconsciously adjusting to the disorders she was given and taking up the behaviors of an 'insane' person. It tended to happen with patients. You promise to work on that.

"It's fine." You get up from your seat. "Emotional catharsis is good once in a while." Her gaze lingers on you for a while as if she still can't believe that you think she isn't crazy. Her system probably is going through a huge shock, thinks it's all a dream.

She finally leaves, her gaze on you not wavering until she is out the door, and you begin to clean up the room, lost in your thoughts. You said you would figure out what it was that Tom Riddle did to her and you realize that it might be harder done than said. He was a high level psychologist, reputed widely, and trying to get dirt on him would be hard.

Tom Riddle...it all ties back to him. Just what had he done to Bellatrix that made her like this? Just what had their relationship been like?

You are bending over and picking up the pieces of yet another one of your broken mugs and when you straighten up you jump, startled by the appearance of Luna.

"Luna," you breath, calming your racing heart. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I knocked but you were too wrapped up in your inner thinking." Her blue gaze flits around the room, taking in the damages. "Bellatrix?"

"Yea. She had an angry spat."

"More than a spat," Luna comments and settles down on the overturned chair. She pulls out a snack bag of M and M's.

You drop the broken shards into the trash. You figure you will have to clean up this later. A messy state is not ideal for a therapy session; it can throw the patients mind into chaos but for now it will have to do. "And how are you doing today Luna?"

The girl is focused on her candies. She takes two M and M's, one pink and one red, out of the bag and stacks them before trying to crush them between her forefinger and thumb. Only the red cracks and she eats that one. She proceeds to take out another color, blue, and test the two again. The pink wins once more and Luna eats the loser.

"What an interesting game," you tell her and she shakes her head in acknowledgment.

"I play this game a lot."

"Who came up with it?"

"McGonagall did. Although she did it with flavored jelly beans. They don't have the kind she likes in this town so I settled on M and M's. Their nicer tasting too. I won't get anything nasty like a booger flavor or earwax jelly bean."

The hallucinations were back. Not good. "And how long have you been talking to McGonagall for again?"

"Only today. Before I came into your office, she warned me. Said it wasn't wise what you were doing and that she was concerned for you."

So in truth it was Luna that was worried for you and blaming it on her friend McGonagall. "And did she say anything else? Is this about Bellatrix?"

Luna doesn't answer. She is intently focused on her game. The pink candy has lasted five rounds already, cracking all it's opponents. Luna pulls out a brown candy and lines the two up, but she doesn't crush them just yet. She says to you, "sometimes this game is really interesting. Sometimes one of the M and M's will survive multiple rounds, cracking open the others. Like this pink one here. And you have hope that maybe you've found the one; the one that will last forever. But you know there is no such thing as forever and that it will eventually crumble. The only question is, will the other candy break it?" She then presses down on the two candies. Her lips make a surprised oo when the pink and brown candies both get crushed.

She raises the candies up to the light as if to see if there were any tricks. Her lips stretch into an astonished smile. "And sometimes both fall to each other." At this she puts the snacks into her mouth and eats them. "Delicious."

* * *

Narcissa gives you a call on Sunday and it interrupts you from painting. This time you are working on something new. The portrait of Bellatrix stands on an easel, covered. You want to add to it but you still don't know what is missing.

"Ms. Granger, could I meet with you?" her voice sounds a bit breathless from excitement or joy.

"Is something the matter?" you immediately think of what kind of trouble Bellatrix could have gotten into. It's no short list.

"I just-it's just that I need to talk to you. To speak to you in person."

"Uh, sure." You are taken aback by her urgency.

"Can you meet today?"

You glance at the clock. It's five pm. "I suppose."

"Right now?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

Why was she so insistent on this? Curiosity peaks in you, overriding your desire to stay home.

"Sure, I can do so. What place?"

Narcissa gives you the location and you write it down and change out of your dirty clothes before you head over. The woman is inside the cafe and she jumps out of her chair when you appear. "Ms. Granger, you must tell me what you did to Bellatrix!"

You heart leaps up into your throat at that. Did she know about the fights? Oh shit. What can you even say? "What I did?" You try to act causal, innocent.

"Yes, she's acting differently." The woman drags you to the cafe table by your elbow and sits you down forcefully. She has ordered coffees for the two of you. You sit down, still tore on what she's getting at.

"Different? In a bad way?"

"No. A good way." Narcissa leans closer, her hands wrapping around her drink and you understand that the bright glint in her eyes isn't anger but joy. "I can't...I mean I guess to someone like me who has lived with her for so long it's obvious. I saw her walking around the house and I caught her humming. I mean really humming and she was...she looked so happy. I was so excited when I saw this. I just had to tell you. To take you out and thank you in person." Her hand wraps around your still one. You are still in a bit of shock at this tidbit of information.

"Uh, you're welcome," you manage out at last.

"I'm sorry if it was last minute but doctor I was so excited. I was so happy. You're making changes in her. What did you say to her to get her like this? Tell me so I can know what to say to her to make her this happy again." She's like an eager puppy and you have never seen her so expressive.

"I told her she wasn't crazy."

This pauses the blonde haired woman; her whole body freezes like it as encountered an error and has to reboot. It takes her a few seconds to get back online. "What?" she furrows her brows up.

"I told her she isn't crazy. And it's true."

"No. She's insane. Countless therapists have told me so." She sits back, her warm hand slipping off of yours. She is subdued now. The atmosphere surrounding the two of you, one of discontent.

"Yes. And they were wrong." You can tell she doesn't believe you.

"But how can they be wrong? She's hurt others."

"That's her anger issues along with some mild psychopathy. But that doesn't mean she's nuts. That disorder remains, but the others? They don't exist." You tap on the table with your fingers, feeling antsy.

Narcissa licks her lips in uncertainty and you can tell she wants to say something else so you speak up before she can say something ignorantly. "She was misdiagnosed and sometimes when people are labeled as deranged then they pick up the traits that comes with such madness. That's what Bellatrix did unintentionally. And since it's been years of hearing the same thing over and over, that she's crazy, she began to fill that role she had been given. I intend to stamp those inclinations out of her."

Narcissa shakes her head. "No, no, no." She turns angry eyes on you. "She _is_ crazy. I came to you for you to help her not absolve her so that she could get off of your hands. I bet you're only saying this because you don't want to help her anymore. You're just passing on the torch to someone else."

That's insulting. "Don't you dare accuse me of that! I have been working my ass off to help her where others wouldn't. She is _not_ crazy and I stand by my theory. It's because of people like _you_ ," you point viciously at her, "that help perpetuate this stereotype that she is deranged and which only feeds her illnesses. You are the one who is making it worse and hard on her. You need to stop acting like she is unstable and act like she is normal." At this you get up, the chair scraping loudly behind you. "I will prove to you one way or another that I am right." Then you storm off to your car.

Narcissa sits in the cafe, people looking at her, wondering what that argument had been about. She ignores them and the cup of coffee in her hands. Stress lines form on her forehead. "It's already happening. She has you wrapped around her finger." This was said in a horrified whisper. Then she got up and, throwing some cash on the table, left the cafe too.

You get back to the house in a foul mood and upon entrance to your living room you see Bellatrix sitting in the armchair. There's a bottle of brown liquor next to her and a glass in her hands. You are not in the mood for her. "Bellatrix, what are you doing in my house? What did I tell you about coming in? I will get a restraining order on you-"

"I've come here to talk," she slurs and you wonder just how much she has had to drink. Her eyes are lidded heavily and her head bobs up and down. "About Riddle," she clarifies and turns her face to you. Her cheeks are flushed red. You want to know about Riddle, but not like this.

"We are not talking about him right now. How much did you have to drink?" you ask and grab the bottle away from her. Half of it is gone and it's a big bottle. She reaches drunkenly for the bottle but you slap her hand away.

"It wasn't that much," she mumbles. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine. And I will certainly not be talking about Riddle with you drunk. We are doing it sober. You have to face it with awareness."

"But I don't want to," she whines.

"No." You resolutely answer and take the glass from her away as well. "Come on, it's time you went home." You lift her up by under the armpits and her face buries itself in the crook of your neck. "Oh my god why are you so heavy?" you grunt out as her full weight falls on you. She is not even trying to support herself.

"Where do you live?" you ask her but she mumbles something into your hair. You could call Narcissa over to get her, but then you would have to explain how Bellatrix got in and frankly you do not want to do that, much less face the woman after the nasty conversation that was had. And you had no clue where Bellatrix lived so it looked like the raven haired woman was going to sleep off her hangover here.

"I'm taking you upstairs. Can you help me by walking?"

Bellatrix nods her head and attempts to pick her feet up and down but you still end up carrying her most of the way. You toss her onto your bed and she lies there. You debate if you should change her clothes but shrug. Too much work.

"Just don't throw up in my bed okay?" you tell her. "Please?" you add more quietly. Bellatrix nods her head in response but she is already drifting off to sleep. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. It's only seven pm. What are you doing to do with her now? You suppose she can sober up a bit and then you can drive her home.

With that in mind you go downstairs and continue working on your painting. This time you are painting the mountains that the both of you had climbed on a trip once. A smile graces your lips as you dwell on the memory.

 **A/N: So progress is being made, albeit slowly. About time, it's already chapter eleven. On that note, I did say I was going to make this series ten chapters long but here we are...and I still have so much more to write. I have no clue how long I want this to be now. I suppose until I write everything out that I want to write out.**

 **This chapter was supposed to be pivotal in that Hermione finally realizes that Bellatrix is not mad. The moment wasn't more of an 'aha' moment because Hermione is so tired by this back and forth and she's had it be hinted at that the dark haired woman wasn't crazy in the first place from Luna. Usually people who are actually crazy can tell those who are truly crazy from those who are only pretending to be so. But what do you guys think? Do you think Bellatrix is deranged in this story? She has odd behaviors after all, and everyone else thinks she is. Yet Hermione doesn't think she is, but could it be because she has become so wrapped up in Bellatrix's life that she cannot see it anymore? Hmm, I'd be interested to hear your guys take on this. Obviously the answer to this will become apparent in the end, although I still don't have a concrete conclusion on what I will choose.**

 **I do like writing the part of Luna. She's so much fun. And she's like perfect for the role of a crazy person, but one who is wise and knows things that Hermione doesn't. I love being able to include metaphors through her actions. :)  
**


	12. Chapter 12

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Twelve: A New House-guest_

* * *

"So, what happened to being impervious to hangovers?" You ask with thick amusement in your voice.

"Fuck you," Bellatrix mutters from behind the closed bathroom door. The toilet flushes and you get off the door as it opens up. The older woman is a mess. Her skin is pale, shiny, and her hair in tangled curls.

"You think you can go home now?"

"Yea, I should be fine now. Can you drive me back? I can't drive myself."

You nod your head, glad she was going. You grab her a trash bag for the road should she feel the need to hurl again. You follow her instructions and aren't shocked when you come to a mansion. It rivals the ones of celebrities. It is white and imposing, with a manicured lawn, bush sculptures, several fountains, and so much land that it seems to be in a separate world of its own. You can't stop a low whistle from coming out your mouth.

"Lucius is a filmmaker."

"Huh?"

"That's why the house looks like this. Of course he is never home. It's just me and Cissy and Draco. But mainly me, since everyone is busy with other things. Do you want a look inside?"

"Uh, I'll pass." You had just had a spat with her younger sister and you really are not looking forward to seeing her this soon.

"I insist. Besides, I'm still drunk. You don't expect me to walk all the way in by myself?" She bats her eyes at you playfully and you sigh. You park the car in the driveway and help your patient out of the car.

Her skin is warm for once and she loops an arm around yours to balance herself, you having to hold most of her weight as you drag her around. You make way across the giant lawn and when you arrive at the door she pulls her keys out. With slight difficulty she slides them in and turns the lock. Inside, the mansion is even more stately than the outside. You shake your head in disbelief on the wonders here that look like they were derived from high societies all over the world and your mouth hangs open. It looks like a palace built for a king. Bellatrix notices the look of astonishment because she chuckles and hits you on the shoulder. "My sister, the interior decorator. Don't get too caught up in how it looks now. She changes it every couple of months when she gets bored and tired of all this glamour."

"Is that a painting made entirely of gold?" you whisper in amazement.

"Frivolous and stupid," is Bellatrix's response. "Don't tell me you actually care about amassing huge amounts of money?"

"I only wish to have money to support myself when I get older." You crane your head back and forth, taking everything in.

"And what's the point? Spend it now and have fun; live with no regrets." She raises her free hand in the air and twirls it around. "My room is this way." She points up the stairs and you wrinkle your brows in annoyance. Getting a drunk Bellatrix up the stairs would not be fun. The process is laborious and when you make it to the top of the giant marble staircase you find one very upset person standing at the top.

"Bellatrix. Ms. Granger." Narcissa is curt. She's wearing her night clothes, made of silk, and her hands are on her hips.

"Hello." You nod your head shortly at her, wondering how you can possibly explain this. You were sort of hoping she would be asleep at this hour. "I found her wandering the streets drunk and figured it was best I took her to her house, feeling it wouldn't be right to just let her be."

The anger in her blue eyes only intensifies and you can't tell who she is angrier at- you or her sister. "Bellatrix, come here." She beckons with her fore finger. Her eyes glare daggers at your looped arms and you let go first. Bellatrix rocks unsteadily on her feet before she straightens herself and sidles up to her sister's side with much difficulty. "What's got your panties in a twist?" she questions, her words slurring.

"Go to bed."

"But I'm not tired."

"Go to bed!"

"Why?" is the whine. "I want to stay up."

"Just go to bed!"

"No!"

"Do not make me repeat myself."

"Don't make _me_ repeat myself."

"Bellatrix," a low tone, warning carried in it.

"Cissy," Bellatrix mimics back.

"What did I tell you?"

"I'm not going to bed." Arms crossed over the chest resolutely.

"Are you really going to do this now?" A slight twitch in the face. Voice slowly losing it's cool edge.

"I told you I'm not tired."

"I don't care if you're not tired."

"Then why are you trying to get me to bed if you don't care?"

You feel the urge to laugh at the sight of the two sister's arguing. You hold it in, figuring it would be better for the tempers of both if you didn't say anything.

"I'm not saying I don't care about- uh, you know what, just go into your room. Right this instant."

"You're not my mother. You can't tell me what to do." A tongue stuck out in retaliation.

"Bellatrix, for God's sake, go to SLEEP!"

"FINE!" Bellatrix huffs and childishly stomps off and down the hall. Her door is the one closest to the stairs and she slams it angrily behind her, loud enough for it to shake the chandeliers. Narcissa lets out a long breath through her nose, no doubt composing herself. You had no idea she could scream as loudly as Bellatrix did, but you supposed it made sense. They were sisters after all. The seconds tick by and she finally opens her eyes, her blue gaze on you.

"I'll be going home now," you tell Narcissa, feeling an awkward air surrounding the two of you now that Bellatrix is gone.

"I would like a word with you before you go."

"Okay." You pause in the midst of spinning around on your heel. You shove your hands into the pockets of your denim jacket to keep from fiddling with them. You can see the bad news sitting on Narcissa's tongue.

"I want to cancel your services."

"Excuse me?" your eyebrow goes up. "For what reason?"

She licks her lips and glances off to the side quickly to gather up courage before reconnecting eye contact. "I no longer think your services are adequate and do not want Bellatrix going to therapy sessions with you."

"Is this because I think she's not crazy?" You can feel heat fill your voice and struggle to rein it back. It's insulting that she doesn't think you credible anymore.

"Yes." Narcissa doesn't even deny it. "I want someone to heal her, not someone to simply say she is all better and be done with it. To get her off their hands."

"But she's really not crazy! I swear it! I can show you proof!"

"I won't be needing that," she calmly responds. Her tone lets you know this conversation is now over. You know there is not much else you can do. You can't force her to come to you.

"As you wish," you murmur, letting the unspent anger die in you. There is no point in getting angry over this. Bellatrix is just another patient. She will find help with another therapist if the case demands it be. But something inside you whispers, that Bellatrix _isn't_ just another patient.

"You're giving up? Just like that?" Both heads swivel to see Bellatrix has left her room. She had snuck out without the either of you noticing (sneaking about without being noticed seemly a good skill of hers), and must have overheard the conversation. Her question is directed at you and her wide eyed gaze makes you squirm; feel guilty.

"Bellatrix, I cannot. I can't break the rules of conduct."

"Of course, you fucking rule obsessed bitch." Her harsh words and tone of voice throw you off your feet. Narcissa merely sighs at this. "Bellatrix go to sleep or I will personally lock you into your room."

Bellatrix bares her teeth at you, slinging one last insult. "Giving up like the pathetic excuse of a doctor you are! I never should have placed any hope in you." Then she stomps off to her room, slamming the door a second time. You shrug, to convey to Narcissa you are used to her verbal barbs by now. It still doesn't stop the guilt and hurt inside you from growing.

"Slam that door one more time and watch what happens, Bellatrix!" Narcissa threatens, glaring at the closed door.

The door opens, the dark haired woman's head peeking out. "Fuck off, MOM!" She slams it a third time.

"That's it," Narcissa grumbles under her breath. Louder she says, "come out here right now. What did I tell you about slamming doors?" She strides over to the door and you can hear more of Bellatrix's screaming from inside. You decide this is your cue to go.

* * *

The doorbell going off at two in the morning wakes you up, but it is the way it keeps ringing, the annoying shrills bouncing around the house and your head, that keep you awake. You clamber out of bed, disgruntled and willing to give whoever it is that is ringing your door at this freaking hour a piece of your well educated and well versed in barbs mind. The door doesn't stop ringing, the shrills not even being completed fully now before they are started again, as whoever is on the other side of the door has lost their patience. You violently open the door, a snarling 'what!' ripping from your lips. When you see whose standing on the other side of the door your mood does not improve. "No. No, no, no, no, and no." You tell them and slam the door in their face but their foot jammed between the doorway stops it from doing so.

"Doctor," they start, almost in an amused tone.

"Bellatrix please tell me this isn't what I think it is," you groan out, still trying to press the door closed on her. Her hands wedge their way in and you decide to let it open rather than continue childishly trying to lock her out.

"Doctor, it is exactly what you think it is." Her voice is thick with amusement.

"Bellatrix _why_?" The exasperation and whine is thick in your voice and you run over your tired face with both hands. You hope this is a bad dream.

"Well doctor," Bellatrix coos as she starts. She pats the suitcase next to her, one of the many pieces of black baggage she has brought. "Seeing as my sister is being a total ass face and we just had a severe fight that might get me arrested and thrown in jail for ten years, I thought it would be safer to come here and live with you." There is silence, only the noise of crickets filling the gap between the two of you.

You stare at her, the words 'no' and 'this can't be happening' running through your head like a bad nightmare. This is _so_ wrong.

"Bellatrix," you start with a soft sigh.

"Don't worry, I won't set your house on fire like I did with Cissy's." With that not at all reassuring statement she grabs one of her big bags and shoves her way past you. "Come help me bring this in."

"We're not even going to discuss the fact you burned your sister's place down?"

"Nope." Bellatrix merrily pops the p, not the least bit concerned or remorseful of her actions.

 _Well, at least she rang the door this time. She could have just shown up in my living room with all this luggage_ , you try to find something, anything, good about this situation, but it doesn't succeed in making you feel better.

* * *

Morning arrives and you go downstairs, hoping that perhaps last night was all a dream. But when you get downstairs you see Bellatrix's luggage spread around the living room and she is slung over the couch, snoring softly. "Impossible. She is impossible." You grit through clenched teeth. What were you going to do with her? You couldn't let her stay here. You would get in so much trouble from her sister.

Shaking your head you decide you will make breakfast for the two of you and then kick her out. The smell of cooking food is what wakes her up and she sits up, her hair ruffled up from sleep. She pads into the kitchen, barefoot and rubbing her stomach. "What you cooking?" She asks, peering over your shoulder at the eggs in the pan.

"Breakfast," you grumble out, feeling unnerved by her close proximity. The scent of sandalwood and spice floats over from her and you try to ignore how nice she smells.

"How considerate of you." She walks away at this, choosing to rummage through the fridge for something to drink. She pops open the top of a half full wine bottle and chugs it down. "Bellatrix!" you hiss. "This is no time to be drinking! It's barely eight in the morning! And don't just casually go through my fridge like that."

She rolls her eyes at the last comment. "So?" She swallows down and wipes a trickle of red from her chin. "It's only wine. And if you're going to act like such a grumpy housemate then I don't think this is going to work out."

"I need to talk to you about this," you turn to her, spatula in hand and pointing at her. "You can't stay here."

"Sure," she says, ignoring it, and leaning on the counter top, sipping from the bottle.

"I'm not kidding, Bellatrix. You're my patient- _were_ my patient- and you cannot stay here. You need to go home, and stop acting like a little brat. Talk it through with your sister."

"I don't want to talk it through with her," Bellatrix insists. "I want to stay here."

"And why is that? We don't like each other! We can barely get along without one of us snapping at the other." You raise your hands in the air in exasperation.

"Because I want to continue my sessions."

You are a tad surprised but honored that she seems to now like your sessions, however, you can't let them continue. "You can't. Narcissa doesn't want me counseling you anymore and I won't."

"I have the money to pay you if that's what you're worried about. I took my secret stash. I was going to spend it on something else but I suppose things have changed." She swirls the contents of the bottle, most of it mainly gone.

"The money is not the issue. It's just- I can't, it would be wrong. If she catches me doing it then I will get in trouble. Major trouble. She will sue me and I don't have the money to fight back against her fortune. Besides, it would ruin my reputation."

Bellatrix is quiet, staring at you with a slightly murderous glare. Her lips are stained red by the wine. "You are not chickening your way out of this." That is a threat and the smell of burning eggs turns your attention back to the breakfast you have now ruined. Sighing, you turn off the stove and turn on the air vents to try to air out the stench of burnt egg out of the room. You grab the pan off the stove and spill the eggs out onto a plate before you dump the hot pan into a sink of cool water.

"I am not chickening my way out of anything," you insist, looking in disgust at your meal. It's ash on a plate. It looks like you'll have to grab a quick bite somewhere else. "I wanted to help you but I have to respect the wishes of your sister. I can't force my opinions on her."

The loud slam of the wine bottle on the counter top draws you into looking back at Bellatrix. She is angry, with a mixture of hurt and frustration on her face. "I thought you really wanted to help me."

"I do," you affirm. "But the time of help has drawn to an end."

"You never wanted to help me. No one ever does! I thought you were different, because you don't believe that I'm insane like the others do, like the whole world does! But I was wrong. Everyone is always the same! Always the fucking same!" She picks the bottle up and flings it at you. You duck and it smashes right behind your head, against the tiled wall. You know where this is going and you need to stop it right now. She rushes at you and quickly thinking you raise the pan you had just been using. She is clearly not expecting you to retaliate so quickly and it's evidenced in the way she leaves herself wide open for a pan to the face. She drops to the floor, flat on her back, and you place the pan back. Her hands come up to her nose. It's bleeding but she doesn't look like she's going to stay down long and you will need to restrain her so that she can rage and spend all her energy.

Your hands pin her arms down and you straddle her waist to keep her in place. She thrashes and hisses and spits like a snake. "You fucking liar! You're just like all of them. Just like the rest of them! Let me go so I can fucking hurt you! So I can beat the snot out of you!"

"You don't want to do that, Bellatrix. You don't." You speak in a calm tone, hoping she will relax. Your muscles strain with the pressure of holding onto her and you decide you will have to do something to make her stop this. On an impulse you lower your head and nip at her neck, not enough for it to be painful, it's pale expanse inviting you forwards. This action confuses her because she stops shaking. "What are you doing?" Her black eyes bore into you like drills and you pull back, staring into those eyes defiantly.

"I'm returning the favor."

"The favor?" she bares her teeth.

"All those months ago you bit me on the neck and told me I was yours to hurt, to toy with. And now I am doing the same. But this isn't a promise of pain but one of trust. That you are mine to heal and to keep safe."

You can see she is trying to hold onto her anger but it is slowly dissipating into the air. Your words sink into her and you know they've hit her, made her feel something, trust hopefully? She tries to cover it up with an insult."You're fucking weird," she throws at you and you take that as sign she is back to her normal self. You get off of her slowly and she too gets up, rubbing the spot of her neck where you bit her. It's a bit red there but nothing like the mess she had left last time.

"I'm taking it that this means you're going to help me?" She asks, a touch of hope in her voice.

Back where you started, oh boy. "Bellatrix, I can't counsel you anymore and you can't stay here. However, I promise that I had every intention of helping you and that if you need someone to talk to, I will be here."

"So that's still a no." Her lips curl up in disgust. "I hope you know I won't be able to get housing here easily due to my criminal past. And whatever happened to tracking down Tom Riddle? To proving my sanity?" She takes a step closer to you, then another. Her presence is intimidating this close up.

What should you do? You really want to help her, but Narcissa said your services were canceled. "Your sister said-"

"Fuck what my sister says. She thinks I'm crazy and would be more than happy to keep me locked up in that glass cage of hers rather than accept anything else. She is my sister but she can be blind, oh so very blind to things of great importance. She doesn't like change and she won't accept me as how I am. So I need you to help me prove not only to her but to everyone else that they were wrong this whole time and I was right." Bellatrix is whispering this right now, her gaze begging you to listen to her, to help.

It pains you to see her like this, but it also grows a seed of an evil idea in you. If she wants your help so badly she will have to give something up for it.

"I'll help you. There are some conditions, however. And you will abide by them as long as you stay here with me. As long as you want me helping you."

"Go on..." Bellatrix says, a hint of suspicion in her voice and she is right to not be trustworthy of your demands.

"If you want me to help you, and if you want to stay here, you will answer any question I ask you truthfully and to the best of your ability."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. There is so much you haven't shared with me Bellatrix and I need to know it if I am going to help you out. If you can't tell me, then I can't help you."

You can see two desires in Bellatrix battling. Will her desire to remain quiet about her past win over her desire to set the record straight? Her dark eyes flutter shut and she breathes heavily, her fists curling up. You fear she may erupt into a rage but when she opens her eyes there is only cold determination in them.

"I agree to the demands. But know this, I hope you burn in hell for your damn curiosity."

"No need to be so sour," you cheerily respond, patting her on her arm as you pass her by. "I have to get to work now. Try not to burn the house down while I'm away."

"No promises," is the grim response. You would be worried but right now you are too elated by the victory over Bellatrix. A small smile graces your lips as you climb the stairs up to get changed.

 **A/N: So finally, we finally are on the path to learning the truth about Bellatrix. Only took like forever, huh?**


	13. Chapter 13

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Thirteen: The Night Terrors Begin_

* * *

 _Feels like I'm frozen_ _  
_ _Nowhere to run, nowhere to run from here_ _  
_ _These walls are closing_ _  
_ _Closing me in_ _  
_ _Wearing me thin with fear_

 _Wake me up_ _  
_ _Won't you wake me up?_ _  
_ _Caught in a bad dream_ _  
_ _Caught in a bad dream_

 _Ruelle Bad Dream_

* * *

You get back home from work to find that Bellatrix has taken the liberty of pulling out all of her personal belongings and strewing them across the house as if she has always lived here.

"Bellatrix?" you ask with an edge to your voice, stepping carefully around a pile of clothes on the floor of your hallway. She's not in the living room where most of the mess is, and she's not in the kitchen. That means she could only be upstairs. You go up, in time to hear a tremendous crash. Your pace quickens, and you become worried. What has she possibly destroyed now?

You open up your bedroom door to find her digging through your closet, an avalanche of your clothing on the floor around her bare legs. "Bellatrix!" you shout out, in shock at the mess she has made. "What are you doing in my closet?" You stride up to her with angry steps and she turns around to notice you for the first time.

"Cleaning up."

"Cleaning up?" you sputter, indicating to the mess around her.

"Yes. Your closet was a mess. Had no room for my stuff at all." She shrugs and twirls around a hangar she has in her hands.

"My closet was not a mess. It was organized before you got your hands on it!" Angry, you grab the hanger out of her hands and toss it to the side. She frowns at this action. "You made a mess of my house. Who said you could just spread your shit all around?"

Her frown only deepens. "I was going to put everything back in but since you're acting so nasty, I suppose you can do it yourself," she says and then stomps down the stairs.

"Bellatrix! Bellatrix!" You shout out after her. You sputter with rage, not even knowing what you can say to her, that's how upset you are. "Stupid little bitch, fucking touching my things and shit," you grumble under your breath as you take off your work coat and roll up the sleeves of your white button down. Looks like you'll be spending the better part of the evening cleaning this up.

You get downstairs by six, most of your anger having boiled away while you were doing the task. The wonderful smell of cooking food invades your nose and you help yourself to deep whiffs of it. Bellatrix is in the kitchen, frying chicken in a pan and stirring rice in another. "What are you making?" you ask warily, surprised the kitchen hasn't burned down with her cooking.

"Some chicken and rice. I would go into the fancy names for it, but I figured you wouldn't have a single clue as to what I say," is her offhand comment as she grabs a pinch of garlic and sprinkles it over the meat. She hasn't turned to look at you.

You cross your hands, pausing in the doorway. "Try me."

She looks at you, arches her brows, and turns back to her food. "We need better ingredients, these are absolutely horrid. A true crime to my taste buds."

"If my groceries bother you so much then you don't have to eat them."

"I'll give you a list of things to buy tomorrow and you can go get them." Bellatrix ignores your barb.

"How about no. You are a perfectly capable adult. You can do it yourself."

"I can't. Narcissa would spot me. I don't need that right now."

"I still don't see why you can't be civil with your sister. How long do you intend to ignore her?"

"About a month or two, till her temper cools. She can be downright nasty and you wouldn't even be able to tell she's upset." She turns the stove off and slides the food onto the two plates she has prepared for you both. Hmmm, was she trying to buy your compliance with food?

"You expect me to keep you hidden here for that long? I'm sure Narcissa will be able to put two and two together and find you."

"Not if you play the part right," Bellatrix grins at you and hands you your plate. The two of you head over to the dining room table which has a stack of Bellatrix's personal books on it. You'll look through them later, in an attempt to see what kind of books lay in her interests. Could open a window to understanding her more.

You take the first bite of the chicken and are astonished by how good it tastes, nothing like your take on chicken. You wonder how she got good at this.

"How did you learn to cook?"

Bellatrix snorts as if the answer should be obvious. "By practicing. Using recipes."

"No, I mean, I'm surprised because given your bougie upbringing I'd expect other people to cook for you. And also, given how you were crazy, people should be scared to let you come close to knives."

"I'm very persuasive when I want to be," is her simple reply yet it doesn't answer much. There is a silence as the both of you eat. She interrupts it.

"Oh, also we need another bed," she mentions and you almost choke on your chicken.

"What?"

"Since I'm going to be staying here I need a place to sleep, other than that couch. It's horrid on the back."

"Bellatrix, my house is too small for another bed. I can't afford to get one, and most certainly I do not want to buy another one especially just because you want one."

"Don't be such a Grinch."

"I'm not being a Grinch. I just don't want to buy you a bed. It's my house, my rules. You'll sleep on the couch and you will like it," you say sternly. "This is not a comfort inn where I will be running around ragged to soothe all your demands."

"Then I suppose I'll be sharing the bed with you," Bellatrix says, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

"What?" This makes you most uncomfortable. "That is even more out of the question. You get the couch and that is it."

"The bed is big enough for two-"

"No."

"Saving the bed for someone?" Bellatrix snickers darkly, her tactics changing. "Although I doubt it's ever going to be used."

"Be careful," you warn her. "I'm still mad at you for leaving this mess in my house."

"Oh come off of it. It gives the house character."

"How, explain to me, how?" You stab your fork a little too harshly, your voice in danger of shattering glass with how high it's gone.

"Your house was so plain and boring, everything put up on it's little shelf, always in it's damn place. It made it look dead, as if no one was living here. But now it looks lived in. You're welcome." She spreads her hands out at this and grins.

You are not swayed. "I expect you to clean up your mess by tomorrow."

"Sure, sure," Bellatrix waves her hand. She's done with her meal already and gets up. "Don't forget to get good groceries tomorrow."

"I'm not-" but the spray of water is loud and you know she won't hear you over the washing of the dishes.

* * *

After you finish your meal you go to paint. You start on a new canvas, stroking your brush up and down. You are so enthralled in your work that you don't hear Bellatrix coming up behind you. "What you painting, doc?" Her warm breath ghosting over your ear freaks you out and you leave a big splotch where your brush jerks erratically against the canvas.

"Don't scare me like that," you warn her, a bit breathless as your heart settles down.

"I wasn't trying to. Is that Findlen Beach?" she asks, peering over your shoulder. Her scent permeates the air, so strong that not even the stench of paint will cover it. Her chin digs into your shoulder, her hands on the seat of your stool too close to your thighs as they prop her up. Her chest brushes your back teasingly, making tingles spread through your body like a waterfall, head to toe, and you try to act causally about all this as you pull out a tissue and wipe at the splotch. "Yea," you answer her, all the words you can manage right now as you try to adjust to the feel of her so close.

"That's the place we visited a couple of weeks back and swam at. I didn't know you liked it so much."

"I didn't. The water was freezing and I still can't believe you made me swim in it. I almost caught hypothermia from it."

"But it was fun," Bellatrix hummed.

"For you," you scoff, putting the brush in blue paint.

"So then why paint it, if you didn't like it?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. My hand just moves on it's own."

"Is that why you painted me?"

"What?" you jerk around so fast at this that she stumbles a bit. You had hoped she had forgotten about it.

"I got bored. I saw the painting, you've been adding to it. Nice work. You got all my good angles."

You don't know whether to feel honored she thinks you did a good job or if you should be embarrassed that she saw it. Would she think you were obsessed with her now?

"It's missing something though," she continues, moving away from you and towards the painting and taking off the cover on it. "I can't tell what." She ponders at it, her finger to her chin. It looks like she's not going to question why you painted her. Your heart rate settles at this, and you let out a relieved breath.

"Why'd you paint it?"

Never mind that then.

"It just happened. Like I said, my hand paints whatever while my brain is removed of stimulus. I don't think when I paint. I feel." You struggle to explain this without sounding like a weirdo.

"So, I could say you were feeling me?" You don't like the smirk on Bellatrix's aristocratic face and you sigh, trying to push away the burn in your stomach at the thoughts of actually feeling- _no, stop_.

You turn your back to her, not deigning to answer and resume painting. The beach is slowly taking shape. Unhappy you are ignoring her she takes to skipping back over to you. "Can you teach me?"

"Teach what?" you ask.

"How to not think."

You stop your motions and turn confused brown eyes to her. "And why would you not want to think?"

"Sometimes my thoughts get to be too much. My head gets all confused." She plucks up a nearby brush and twiddles it between her slender fingers. "Help me learn to shut it off."

"Fine then," you say, wondering what thoughts must run aghast in her head that she would like to forget.

You set up a new easel for her and help her with her brush strokes. It's hard for her to shut off her brain and she gets frustrated easily by this inability. It is only when it is time for bed that you learn what thoughts it is that she wishes to halt.

"You are not sleeping next to me," you remind her but you already know the battle has been lost as she crawls into the sheets next to you. She's changed into a black shirt with a ridiculous neckline that shows the top of her breasts, and short shorts that don't hide her smooth thighs at all.

"So then don't think about it as if I'm sleeping next to you, but that I'm not even here if it bothers you so much."

You are too tired to argue anymore at this point so you grab an extra pillow and wedge it between the two of you, creating a temporary barrier.

"Really? How old are you?"

"Just stay on your side and I'll stay on mine and we won't have any issues," you grunt out and turn your back to her, flicking the night lamp next to you off. You ignore the small thought in your head that says how wrong this is, a doctor sleeping next to their patient, before you close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep. Sleep is a long time coming. You can't remember the last time you slept with someone in your bed and the soft sounds of her breathing, turning around and shuffling, doesn't let you nod off. It annoys you and you pull the pillow around your head to shut the sounds out. Eventually somewhere in the wee hours of the morning you fall asleep before you even become aware of it.

But you don't stay asleep for long. A horrendous scream wakes you up. You bolt up, disoriented and scared. You search in the dark for the lamp and flick it on and see where the source of the screams are coming from. It's Bellatrix and she is lying curled up on the bed, the sheets twisted around her and her hands on her ears.

"Bellatrix, Bellatrix," you shake her shoulder but she can't hear you. She is lost in her own world. You immediately know what it is she is suffering from, although it was never reported on her files. She's having night terrors.

"No...no...please, I'll be a good girl...just don't do it...stop..." she's crying, her voice breaking with panic and terror.

"Bellatrix," you say more softly but she continues sobbing, curling up even more tightly.

You've never actually faced a night terror patient before in the throes of a terror, so you don't know what to do for sure. You decide that the best thing to do right now is to comfort her and wait it out. You rub her back as she shakes and quivers and only when the clock hits four in the morning does she stop and drop back into a fitful unconsciousness. You don't sleep.

You get up and make some coffee and sit by the window downstairs, contemplating why she never reported having these night terrors. Or why even her sister never mentioned them. Surely Narcissa would have heard them, they weren't exactly hard to ignore.

Bellatrix gets downstairs at eight, her hair a mess from her reckless night time turmoil and lips soft and extra full from sleep. "Good morning doctor," she grunts out and takes the cup of coffee that you offer her. It's cooled by now and she sips it.

"What's got you up so early?"

"You."

"Me?" A smirk. "Couldn't sleep well knowing my tempting body was-"

"It was your night terrors."

She frowns over her mug. "My night what?"

This is not the response you were expecting. Refusal to talk about it, yes. Confirmation about having it, yes. But not surprise and confusion. "Your night terrors. The bad dreams you have that leave you crying and screaming."

Her frown only deepens. "That doesn't happen."

"Bellatrix, don't lie to me." Your lack of sleep doesn't leave you with patience for her bullshit. "You promised upon staying here that you would answer my questions truthfully so that I could help you figure out the situation with Tom Riddle."

"And I'm not lying," she grits out, insulted that you think she is fabricating her words. "I'm telling the truth."

Now it is your turn to frown. How could one not have any memories of such horrid dreams. Was she purposefully putting them out of mind before her conscious brain could even become aware of it? Or was she just loathe to admit to it? "Are you serious?"

"As serious as Sirius Black," she smirks at her little pun.

Great. It seemed Bellatrix had something that she couldn't recall having and you wouldn't be able to treat it until you got to the root of the issue. You rub your forehead. Just another job for you in this enigma called Bellatrix. You decide to let the issue go for now.

You have to get to work. Sleep deprived you arrive at your office, a cup of coffee in your hand to stave away the tiredness. You hope the day will be simple but when you see Narcissa at the door you know it will be anything but. She is waiting patiently, dressed immaculately as usual, but you can see impatience brimming under that facade she wears.

"Ms. Malfoy," you say, stifling a yawn. "What brings you here?" She lets you get past her so that you can open up your office. She follows you inside and you set your things down on the table before you address her issue.

"It's my sister. Bellatrix has run away from home."

"She did?" you ask casually before remembering that you shouldn't know this information. "She did!" you exclaim. "What? Are you sure she didn't just hide in one of the rooms around the house? It is a big place after all."

"It's a mansion," Narcissa corrects. "And no, I would know. She took all her luggage which means she's left the mansion. She's on the run again."

"So she's a flight risk?" you ask, tapping your hands on your desk. "Why wasn't this in her files?"

This trips Narcissa up a bit but she shoulders on. "It was removed because she used to do this when she was younger. I still didn't think it in her to run. She's a nearly forty year old woman, for pete's sake! I was wondering if she has come into contact with you, or attempted to attend a meeting?" Narcissa is suspicious and you gulp, trying to act as non guilty as you can.

"No, she hasn't done anything of the sort. I would contact you first thing if she did," you assure her, hoping that she can't tell that there is a huge secret that weighs on your mind, making your tongue heavy as you say these words.

She sniffs and eyes you and you can't tell what she is thinking now. At last she says, "I hope that for your sake doctor, you do not try to keep in touch with her. She is going to use you and abuse you if you do. You aren't the first doctor who has thought her to be sane."

This statement leaves you stunned. "Excuse me?" All the records prove otherwise.

"Bellatrix has an ability to cause her therapists to eat out of her hands. Whatever you do, you cannot allow her to do this to you. Thinking her normal is the first step of her plan. The next is her seduc-"

"Get out of my office," you hiss at her, anger filling your veins. How dare she question your intelligence?! Narcissa startles at the look of hatred on your face. "You dare to come here to me and spout such nonsense? I said get out," you growl.

"Ms. Granger," Narcissa composes herself quickly. "I came here to warn you, with your best interests in heart-"

"I don't want to hear anymore. Leave. And I hope that you do find your sister, but for her sake, I hope you don't. It is people like you that drive others to go insane." The words are venom, pure and unbridled and you can see the hurt flash across Narcissa'a facade like a bolt of lighting.

"I see you won't be of any help. Have a good day," said with a haughty sniff. The last part sounds more like a 'fuck you' than anything else but you nod your head tightly at her and watch her leave the office, slamming the door loudly.

Once she is gone, you sink down into your seat and put your hands in your head.

You feel like the hole you've dug yourself into only keeps getting bigger and that one day it will collapse on you.


	14. Chapter 14

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Fourteen: A Carving Board on Your Body_

* * *

 _Maybe we have made her blind/so she tries to cover up her pain/but there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark/no scars to your beautiful/we're stars and we're beautiful_

 _Alessa Cara, Scars to your Beautiful_

* * *

"Whose that texting you?" Bellatrix asks. She's lounging on the couch in the living room, a book in her hands that she hasn't been reading at all these past couple of minutes. Your phone has been going off consecutively with text messages, distracting her.

"A friend," you respond quickly, most of your attention on the phone. Sasha, the girl who you hooked up with all that time ago, has been texting you about another hook up, or a date in the very least to get to know each other a bit better, and you are trying to figure out the best plans for that.

"Ooo," Bellatrix sits up, a sly grin on her face. "I didn't know the doc had friends."

"I do, I'm just too busy to hang out with them."

"That's what a person with no real friends would say..." Bellatrix trails off and you shoot her a dirty look, not willing to engage this further. You glance back down at your text and see that Sasha wants to meet up in an hour at a cafe. You get up, going to your bedroom. You need to get changed for it. You pick out the cutest outfit you have and stride back downstairs. Bellatrix notices the outfit change and grins even more widely. "Hmmm, are you sure you're meeting up with a friend? And that it's not really a date?"

"I see nothing wrong with dressing up nicely for outings. Just because you don't do the same doesn't mean I can't."

"I don't dress nicely?" Bellatrix spins around so that she's lying on her stomach on the couch, her black deep v-neck hanging away from her chest. It gives you a generous look of her breasts and you quickly look away, your heart squeezing in your chest for some inexplicable reason.

"No," you retort and grab your keys and bag before you head out the door.

The date with Sasha goes well, and now when you are more sober you realize how much she looks alike to Bellatrix albeit personality wise they are as different as different can be. The only difference physically being her features are softer, her face younger, and you can't shake this thought away. What are you doing with someone that looks like your former patient? You try to rationalize it. Perhaps dark haired women are your type? Perhaps you were so occupied with your case on Bellatrix that you went for someone that looked like her in hopes that by carrying out a successful relationship with them you could have successful therapy sessions? The list of reasons you come up with is endless, but no matter what you conjure up it always feels like you are missing something.

You hook up at her apartment, careful to remind her not to leave hickeys. If Bellatrix comes to see them then she would flip out again, but who knows for what reason. You head back home at 10pm, feeling happier than you have in a long time. You promise to meet up again with Sasha.

Bellatrix senses your happy mood because like a moth to the flame she zeroes in on it as soon as you enter through the door.

"I guess that friend provided adequate entertainment?" The way she says friend insinuates something but you ignore it. She has prepared a late meal for you both. A salad with fresh chicken. You sit down and get started on it, hungry from all your late night activities.

Bellatrix watches you scarf down the meal in silence before adding another comment. "I thought you would have eaten to the full already, but I guess I was wrong."

You're pretty sure that was a sexual comment so you ignore it.

"I'm going to bed early today, so if you're going to stay up make sure to be quiet."

She smirks, fork coming up to her mouth. "Oh, quiet is my middle name." You know she's not going to be quiet now on purpose. Why did you even bother to ask?

Meal done, you trudge upstairs, and do a little bit of light reading before you turn off the lamp and settle down for bed. You've been asleep for a while when the screams start. You turn on the lights, your heart pounding in your chest and you see that Bellatrix has come to bed but she is shaking and quivering, curled in her little ball. You won't be getting any sleep this night. She's muttering words, tears coming from her tightly shut eyes. "Stop...I can hear them...their going to kill me! Dad stop it...stop the dogs!"

She goes on and on saying this and you take out your phone. If Bellatrix doesn't believe that she has night terrors, you are going to show her proof.

* * *

Bellatrix's face is one of horror when you show her the clip you recorded on your phone. "I do this?" her voice is a strangled whisper as her hold on your phone shakes. "I never knew-how-how long has this been going on?"

"Yes, you do," you confirm. "And I can't tell you the answer to that question yet. But we can figure out because I want us to talk about it." You gesture at the armchair you pulled up to you.

"Now?" She asks, looking small and frightened in the early morning light. Her eyes are still digesting what she saw and it has her more freaked out than she will admit. She settles down and you take the seat in front of her, doctorly and professional like.

"Bellatrix, can you tell me what you were referring to in the video? Something involving your dad and dogs. On making it stop. What does that all mean?"

Bellatrix's pale face pales even more and she looks like she is going to be sick. She knows and clearly remembers something. You feel she may want to back out of this so you gently remind her, "I need the truth. You promised to answer my questions truthfully."

She gulps at this. "And I need a drink," she mutters, standing up and rushing to the liquor cabinet. You really should get rid of that piece of furniture. Bellatrix has already drank through half your stuff.

"Bellatrix, you can't keep drinking away your pain. You need to face this sober."

"I don't need to face this sober," she growls out. "And you certainly won't be able to either after I tell you." She slams down two glasses, filling both to the brim with whiskey. She hands one to you but you place it aside. You've heard patient horror stories before. You can handle this sober. "We will need to focus on this drinking problem too."

" _I_ don't have a drinking problem. The _rest of the world_ has a problem with me drinking." She snorts and downs the entire glass in one go. Then she refills it. Her hands are shaking on the bottle and there's nervous energy around her. Whatever is coming up is going to be taxing on her and you almost feel bad for demanding her to tell the truth but you have no other option. Thought repression is the worst because it is an unconscious process and can have detrimental effects. If she were to start thinking about these thoughts again, granted it would be painful at first, she would gradually be able to face them and dissect them apart and not fear them anymore.

She downs the second glass and then is halfway through her third when you press a hand to her arm, slowly pushing the glass away from her mouth. "I think that is enough," you gently remind her and she shoots you a dark look before she puts the glass down. Her fingers never leave the glass however, all digits wrapped around it and taking comfort from the mere presence of alcohol in her grasp.

Yes, this was something you'd have to work on later. Reliance on alcohol as a comfort could lead to very bad things.

You put a finger to your lips as you wonder where you could start from. The dogs? Asking about her father could open up a whole can of worms that she wasn't ready for just yet. "Bellatrix, tell me about the dogs. Did you have any traumatic experience with them?"

Bellatrix's foot jiggles madly and she is squirming in her seat. "I did," she grits out, not wanting to answer this question but having to; like pulling out teeth instead of words.

"And can you tell me what that experience was like? Go into details. The day, how old you were, the place, the-"

"I get it," she grunts out impatiently, cutting you off. Her fingertip swirls on the glass edge and she stares into it, the amber fluid reflected in her dark orbs. You wait for her to speak up, the clock in the kitchen ticking loudly in the silence.

"I was six years old." Her voice soft and thin like a piece of paper, finally speaks up. You can see her swallow, try to get a grip on herself. "I was the eldest of three sisters. The one who always had a responsibility to look after the others. Me and my sisters lived in a grand old mansion with our parents. The Blacks are old money so my parents never had to do much with their life in order to live comfortably. My dad was a businessman and my mother an artist. We rarely saw our parents, they were always off doing things and leaving us in the care of the butlers and maids. They also entrusted me to take care of my siblings, even though I was barely able to take care of myself. Andromeda was five at the time and Narcissa was four. They loved me and I loved them." There is a pause here as Bellatrix takes a break to steady her voice.

"My father was a very violent man. He wasn't always like that. I remember a time when he used to be calm and sweet to me. But that was when I was very young. Something happened to him one day and like a switch that had been flipped, he could never turn off his anger. Every little thing bothered him. The soup was too hot, the room was too cold, the shower wasn't spraying like it used to. He'd take out his anger on the staff and us as well. My mother got the brunt of his anger initially. If she talked too much, a slap to the face. If she was breathing too loudly, a slap to the face. She eventually got smart and kept out of his way, hiding into the recesses of her chambers and going into painting. She was a painter like you," Bellatrix added as an after thought. She picked up her glass and drained it before she went back to running her finger against the rim. "You should have seen the stuff she painted. They were all masterpieces. It looked as if you could just step into the paintings and find yourself in this other world. I loved her art. And she loved it too. Probably more than she loved any of us." A pause as Bellatrix went to refill her glass again before resuming her previous motion. "Father burned all of them, naturally. He couldn't stand to see anyone happy in that house anymore."

You scribble some notes down on your paper. You want to ask her a question but fear to disrupt, worrying it will derail her from her thoughts.

"Anyways, I digress. That has nothing to do with the dogs. Father had bought a bunch of dogs, dark nasty mutts, to keep the lawn surrounding the house safe from thieves. These dogs had been beaten, mistreated, so as to make them cruel. Father loved his mutts, more than he loved me and my two other sisters." This was said with bitterness, the dark haired woman's lips curling up in disgust. "We never worked much with the dogs; we kids knew to stay away. They frightened us. Then one day, father got really upset. And I mean more upset than usual. Narcissa had touched one of his pet projects- my father liked to fancy himself a tinkerer- and she had broken it, by accident. She was only four, she didn't know any better. It was shiny, it looked nice and she wanted to feel it. I found her in his room, crying, when she realized what sort of mess she had gotten into. So I lied. I lied to protect her." Bellatrix stops at this. Her voice has begun to waver and she bites her fisted hand to give herself courage to move on.

You briefly wonder if this was the event that caused Narcissa to feel indebted to her sister and to keep her in her mansion.

"Father was angry. He had already been angry from something before, going so far as to beat up one of our favorite butlers. But he didn't beat me up as I thought he would. As he normally did. Me and my sisters got beatings on the regulars, a fist to the face, a yank on the hair, to keep us in line. To keep him entertained since he couldn't get his hands on his wife anymore. But this time, this fucking time, he took me to the dogs."

You think you are going to be sick. Your stomach churns painfully and your chest tightens. You know where this is going and you hope by some miracle that it won't go there. That this woman didn't have to suffer what you think she is going to have to suffer through. You raise the glass of whiskey to your lips and take a small sip, trying to calm your nerves.

"There was four of them. Four big dogs. With slobber coming from their mouths. Disgusting, ugly things. He sent them on me, sent them to attack me. His own daughter." Bellatrix closes her eyes on this, her finger running ever more quickly on the glass rim until it stops. "I cried, I pleaded. I begged my father to stop it. He didn't of course, what was I expecting." A dry laugh at this.

"I tried to fight but I was broken. Their teeth hadn't killed me. Oh, they were trained well to differentiate between kill and maim. My father had seen to that." She opens her eyes. "Mother didn't do anything. She just watched, as I screamed. As my sisters cried out for her to help me. Watched as father let his dogs rip into me. I hated her so much for it. Never, not even once, did she have a back bone to stand up to him. To protect us. To get help for him. Not even once." A whisper now, her voice was, and she had not once looked at you this whole time. "And that is probably where I get my night terrors from. From that one night. It all started there."

You sit in the heavy silence of the room trying to comprehend and process everything that just occurred. You can't believe such a thing happened to her. That would have driven anyone to go mad, having that trapped inside them for so long. You haven't realized it until now but a single tear has escaped your eye and you wipe it away.

"Got nothing to say?" Bellatrix asks, her gaze on you for the first time since the confession. And it's a wild gaze. She's trying to hide her emotions behind a facade but she's never been as good at it as Narcissa and you can see the swirling energy behind her eyes. The energy that fills the lines on her face.

"No, it's not that-"

"Disgusted with me now? Going to discard me because you got what you wanted!" She's yelling now and you don't know why. Anger is being used as a defensive mechanism? She might be feeling really vulnerable as of this moment and your lack of response has angered her.

"Bellatrix-" you rise up but she keeps going.

"Or maybe you don't believe me," she hisses, rising up as well. "Probably think I'm a filthy little liar! I'll show you proof, I'll show you god damn proof!" She rolls up the sleeves of her long shirt, her hands jerking with the motions, barely restrained anger behind them. You can see her arms for the first time and on them are scars. Some more faded than others, but nevertheless there. They trace up and and down her wrists, jagged and raised flesh, and probably continue upwards but the rest of her shirt sleeves cover her upper arms.

"Oh." Your mouth does a funny shape.

"That's right. This is why I can't wear t-shirts or tank tops. All because of him! Him!" She grabs her glass and throws it at a wall. It shatters and breaks as does Bellatrix's last bit of restraint. "I FUCKING HATE HIM!" She bellows at the top of her lungs and you know that you will have to throw yourself into the fray in order to calm her down. "I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM, I FUCKING HATE HIM!" She is pacing around the room, throwing anything and everything to the floor that she can get her hands on. You've never seen her this angry before and it scares you. Will you be able to handle her?

"Bellatrix, calm down!" You grab her in a head lock and drag her down to the floor.

She resists, scratching at you with her hands, trying to pull on your hair. "Let me go so I can kill the fucker. I will laugh at the look on his dumb, dying face as he realizes it was me who killed him. Me! And I'll fucking kill all his dogs too. Every last one!"

"Bellatrix stop this. This isn't you. This isn't you." You breathe into her ear as she struggles to break free. Her legs hit the floor as she screams with frustration. But you hold on. At last her rage dies, after what seems like hours, spent and exhausted from her tiny frame. Her cries quiet down into sobs and now she is crying, bawling her eyes out.

"I hate...h-h-him...so much..."

You change the position now and pull her into a hug. Her head buries in the crook of your neck and her arms grip the front of your shirt. "It's going to be okay," you say, assuaging her emotions. You let one of your hands run through her hair. It's soft and silky, the curls bouncing back up as soon as you glide through them. You continue to murmur words of calm to her and brush her hair. Eventually her cries too quiet down and she's taking deep shuddering breaths against the skin of your neck to regain her composure.

You cast a quick glance on the clock. It's almost time for you to go to work. You're going to need to leave Bellatrix now. Hopefully she will be able to handle herself well. She should, she did let out a lot of catharsis. "Bellatrix, why don't you take a nap? You must be tired right now."

There is a vigorous shaking of a head.

"Bellatrix, it'll help. Trust me." You don't want to push her off, afraid that it might seem like a rejection to her and then she will never trust you again.

"No," she mumbles like a little child.

"Bellatrix, I have to get to work. You need to get off."

"Then take a day off." Her arms come up to encircle you.

"Bellatrix..." your voice is soft.

Again another shake of the head no. "Don't leave me. Please. Not now." Her tone is soft, full of need and begging, begging you to stay. Her mouth trails up to your ear and a little shiver goes down your back as she speaks into it. "Stay with me." Her lips are pressed to your ear and it makes you feel hot.

You battle within yourself on what to do. You've never skipped a day of work before. But Bellatrix needs you. And if you left now all the progress could be forever reverted.

"Okay," you sigh, causing a few strands of her hair to move with your breath. "Let me call them to tell them I'm not coming in."

"Thank you doctor," her arms give a small squeeze around you before she gets up and you go up to the phone. The call is brief and to the point and you can feel Bellatrix's stare on you the whole time. As if she is worried you will go back on the promise.

When you finish she presents you with a towel that you use to wipe your neck. She left a lot of tears there and some mascara. She has cleaned her face up while you were talking on the phone and her eyes are still swollen and red. When you are done with the towel she wordlessly takes it from you and goes into the kitchen to throw it away. Then she stands there, looking at you with a questioning look on her face. You meet her gaze, the two of you engaged in a silent staring contest of reservation.

You let your hands sway by your sides, uncertain what to do now. Did you talk more about it...or what? The atmosphere is really weird between the two of you. _Does she maybe want to hug more?_ Your brain questions. You did like the feel of holding her in your arms, never realizing quite how tiny she could be. Her anger made her bigger; taller and stronger. But her tears made her softer, much more enjoyable to hold. Like a precious teddy bear. You blush slightly when you realize where your thoughts are going. _What the hell?_

"Do you want to see them?" Bellatrix's soft question breaks through your pondering and the awkward standing in the middle of the room.

"See what?"

"My scars. All of them?" Her eyes are searching your face, for repulsion, you are certain, so you send her a smile. She is going out on a limb and opening up to you greatly today. You can't risk saying no and having her never open up like this again.

"Show me," you say and she approaches you, her hands tugging off her black shirt. She's standing in front of you with only her bra and shorts on and your mouth goes dry. Scars litter her torso and her chest.

"Is this all from that one attack-?"

"No. There was more incidents. I always took the blame for them," is her reply and it makes your heart break. What kind of sick father sent dogs on his own child, not only once but more times?

"How could he-"

"He was sick, my father. I guess I got some of his illness too." Her smile is bittersweet and she grabs one of your hands in her own, drawing it close to the scar on her right arm, your fingertips trailing lightly. "The dogs started with my arms first." She guides your fingers as they trail lightly over the bumps on her flesh. "It was because I was trying to run away and then I tripped and fell and they dragged me back by my arms."

You can envision it. The snarling of dogs, standing over a small girl. Biting, sinking teeth into flesh and pulling her like a chew toy as her father, a man with a mustache and imposing stance, watched with cold hard eyes as his daughter was mauled before him.

"Then they attacked me here." She drags your hand to her chest, your fingers tracing downwards a huge scar between the valley of her breasts. Your breath quickens at this and you watch, mesmerized as your hand goes down, pushed along by her.

"They attacked me here too," her voice is low and she places your hand over her bra clad right breast. "I almost grew up without both breasts. Can you imagine that?" A dark chuckle emerges from her lips as she squeezes down on your hand, forcing you to squeeze down on her breast. You can feel the warmth of it through the material. Your heart rockets up to your throat. You feel weird, very weird right now, and you drag your eyes away from her chest to her face. Her eyes are off to the side. She's not looking at you, instead stuck in reliving her nightmares.

"They even got me down there," she begins to move your hand-it's shaking but you don't know why- down the vast expanse of her stomach before stopping on the front of her shorts. "The only place that was safe was my legs." A pause as she sighs. "He always had them spare my legs so that I could get up and try to run. He enjoyed seeing me struggle."

"Oh god," explodes from your mouth in one breath. What kind of a man did that? This wasn't an anger issue anymore. It was pure psychosis.

"Yes, that's what I said when the dogs ripped into me." There is a curl of her lips; a cruel smile and she looks up at you. "I get to live with my father's hatred for me forever etched into my skin, to be carried around everywhere I go."

"You're still beautiful," you blurt out, in a rush to reassure her, and not thinking at all before speaking. You just said the first thing that came to mind. But her body is still beautiful. Curves in the right places and in great shape for a woman her age.

Her cruel smile remains. "To who?"

"Uh, to everyone," you stammer to fix your verbal blunder as her eyes drill into you, making you squirm.

"And not to you?" Her question is dangerous. Very dangerous. You swallow, once, twice, trying to get your throat to work.

"Uh, y-yes you are? To me?" you say, more uncertain than anything else.

"Hmmm," she hums, her eyes scrutinizing your face. "Really?"

You nod your head and shrug, feeling uncomfortable in this situation. Your skin is prickling.

"I see. Now, can you remove your hand from my crotch?" There is playful bite to this request and you jerk your hand back as if you were jerking it back from fire. You hadn't realized that she had long ago stopped holding your hand and that you had just left it there. How awkward.

"I think I'm going to take that nap you told me to take," she says as she twirls around you, mood more lifted, and puts her shirt back on. "You can join me if you want," she winks at you and then goes up the stairs.

You clutch the hand that had ran a course over Bellatrix's body to your chest and close your eyes, exhaling heavily. This was so weird. Your heart is pounding and there is a buzzing in your veins. You will have to remind her once more of boundaries between the therapist and the patient. This cannot happen again.

 **A/N: Finally, some sort of break through. About time.  
**

 **Also for the sake of this story, Bellatrix is like 35-38 and Hermione is 24-27. Somewhere in those ranges.**


	15. Chapter 15

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 15: Bewitching Tour  
_

You continue to talk about the dogs with Bellatrix, and on her past. It's slow going and she won't open up to you without a bottle. Some days she'll erupt into a rage like she did before. Other days she will crumple up and cry. But you consider to have breached a minor success because at the end of the second week she finally wakes up from the night terrors when you shake her.

She sits up and looks around in confusion, her face tear streaked. It's almost as if she expects the dogs to leap out at her. But when you place a comforting hand on her back she realizes where she actually is and calms down, your touch grounding her to reality. Then she goes back to sleep and so do you. The night terrors haven't stopped yet and no doubt won't for a while. Which leaves you in a bit of a pickle. You are getting sleep deprived and it shows at work. But you cannot simply buy another bed. You don't have space for one. So it will have to be the couch until Bellatrix decides to move out after her two month stay. Which reminds you, you only have two months to figure out everything and help her. Not a lot of time, now that you think about it.

Some progress has mainly been made about her father. She's told you about him; about how horrid he was, how he mistreated her and her sisters, how he abused their mother. She had an occasional nice story about him but it was vastly over shadowed by the amount of negativity he shed on her life.

"Dromeda ran away first."

"She did what?" you query, lifting your eyes up from your book. You were sitting on your couch, trying to catch up on some literature when Bellatrix plops down next to you, so close her thighs are almost touching yours. You subtly shift away, feeling unnerved by the close proximity for some inexplicable reason.

"When she was but 18 she ran away with some guy that she had meet in college and they eloped. She couldn't stand to come back to the house and live with father anymore. So she found someone who could support her. Good thing she did because father cut off all her money, didn't pay any more for her tuition, and officially disowned her from the family tree. I don't even think she has a college degree because of this. Naturally mother didn't do anything to oppose him." She's biting her nails, looking off at the wall in front of her as she speaks. This is the first time she has offered you information on her own and you are shocked and overjoyed. This means progress. So much progress and in such a short span of time. Of course more must be made, but still!

"And what did you do about it?" You thumb the paper of the book, hiding your excitement and look at her, wondering if you should push her further on this issue.

"I was mad of course," Bellatrix snorts. "She said nothing, not a word of this boy to me and then goes and runs off with him. I was worried for her. She sent me a letter after the wedding, saying she was sorry and that she hoped I would understand but that she saw an opportunity and that she took it as soon as she could. She left me behind. They both did." There is bitterness in her tone.

"Narcissa also married her way out, although she stuck with me a bit longer, waiting for her husband to be arranged for her by father. He didn't disown her. Why should he when she always followed his rules. She was the golden child out of us three. She did whatever it was he asked of her. I was the black sheep, on the other hand. I rebelled against him, fought him. Did everything I could to keep my sister's safe only for them to turn their backs on me and leave me behind." Her foot is jiggling with nervous energy and you place your hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing.

"It's okay. You don't have to share," you insist. She shakes her head at you. She wants to keep going. So you let her.

"It was just me and him later on. We would be trapped in that mansion together. We'd circle each other like beasts, vaguely resembling humans. Lunging and pouncing, sinking our teeth into one another when one would let down their guard. I can't recall a moment when one wouldn't be at the other's throat."

"Do you feel resentment towards your sister's for leaving you, or towards your father for making this all happen?"

"My father. Definitely my father," she answers without hesitation.

You are quiet as you lift your hand off of her knee. It goes back to bouncing its erratic rhythm. "Did you drink?" you ask.

"And what if I did?" she responds defensively.

"We're going to have work on that. You can't come smashed and then pour your heart out to me."

"And what's wrong with that? Would you rather I shut up and just let you run your fingers all over my body again?" Is her coy reply and you shake your head at her. Thankfully you are interrupted from having to make a reply because your phone goes off. You go to pick it up, checking to see that it's Sasha calling.

"Ooo, is it your little friend again?" You ignore Bellatrix's comment and go to the other room to talk to Sasha. She's been very nosy about your new friend. You even caught her snooping through your phone. You had gotten very upset at that.

You and Sasha have been seeing each other more regularly and you're beginning to get more attached to her. She's fun to be around and she clearly is interested in the type of work you do. She's a social worker herself, so working with people is in her stride. Your conversations are always pleasant and your nights together even more so. You think she may be looking for a relationship with you but you don't know if you are ready for that. You have too much work. And then there's the whole thing with helping Bellatrix clear her records which is going to eat up a huge chunk of your time.

Bellatrix's sister has stopped bugging you for now. She had showed up once more at your office door a couple days ago. You had been particularly tired that day and could barely stop yourself from snapping at her. You hated that she thought you had something to do with her sister running away. Even though you were guilty of harboring her sister, she shouldn't know this. Yet, here she was making assumptions. She merely did not trust you anymore. That mistrust hurt.

"No, I don't have any news about Bellatrix," you snap at her pea-coat clad figure before she can even utter a word out.

"Well, good morning to you too doctor," she sniffs at you. "Looking a mess, are we?"

Bellatrix had had a pretty bad night terror, one in which she had fought you in her sleep, thinking you were the dogs. You had a bruise around your eye to show for that, something you covered up with as much foundation as you could. Additionally, you had overslept and gotten dressed in a hurry.

"Didn't take black for your color," she says slowly, her tongue tip peeking out of her mouth as she eyed you up and down. You felt your heart stop in your chest and looked down in panic. Indeed it seems you grabbed one of Bellatrix's shirts and are wearing it right now. It's a bit loose on you in the chest area.

"I don't wear a lot of black normally," you scramble to get out, flattening the shirt with your palm in an effort to regain some calm and order in this situation. "Doesn't mean I don't have a black shirt."

Narcissa merely makes a hmm noise and strides past you, momentarily stopping when she gets to you so that she can whisper something at ear level. "Your clothes smell really familiar. Like sandalwood and spice." Then with that she is away and out of the building. Your heart pumps in your chest at an alarming rate and you let out a shaky breath. With a rush you go inside your office, slamming the door closed behind you and take to sniffing yourself all over, lifting your arms up for good measure. With a groan you realize she was right. You can smell Bellatrix's smell all over you. Dark and heady. No doubt most of it is from her shirt but the rest is from sharing a bed with her.

"I don't think you stink doctor." A voice startles you and you turn around to see that Luna is in your office.

"Luna. I didn't know you were here," you gasp out, moving to sit behind your desk, trying to get your heart beat to settle.

"Yes. You were late and I didn't know what to do, so I came in and sat here like usual." Is Luna's sage reply. She shrugs. "Rough morning doc?"

"You have no idea," you reply, busying yourself with pulling out your notepad and pen. Trying to get back into the working mindset.

"I've heard Bellatrix has run away. And Narcissa is blaming you for it," Luna is stroking absentmindedly at a furry bracelet she is wearing. It's pink.

"Yes, she is. I don't know why. I don't have anything to do with it," you respond, guiltily plucking at the shirt around your torso.

Luna arches an eyebrow and looks at you. "You're wearing her shirt."

You turn wide eyes on her, your heart rate dropping before speeding up again. "What-why-why would you think that?" you've stuttered too much for it to be smooth. You hope she doesn't notice. Given how she cocks her head at you, she has.

"I've never seen you wear black before."

"So?" you can't help your voice from rising in pitch. "I fail to see how you could leap from such a small detail to a huge conclusion." You continue futilely trying to play it off.

Luna shrugs. "I promise I won't tell anyone that you're living with her." She mimics zipping her lips and throwing away the key.

This statement absolutely takes the cake. Your mouth gaps open like a fish. All you can do is breathe loudly and narrow your eyes at her.

"You're sleep deprived doctor," she says as she taps her head all knowingly.

You finally find your tongue and burst out incredulously, "I don't see how that is at all connected to-how you could even get something like me and Bellatrix living together from sleep deprivation or from a single black shirt. There is so much else that could be the cause of it. It doesn't explain your flawed reasoning," you barely can hold yourself from hissing this out. You lean forwards in your seat to better glare at her.

"Have you ever seen a festering wound before, doctor?"

"Why the sudden switch in topic?" You sit back, eyes cautious but anger still rumbling in your veins. You don't like it at all how Luna knows you are living with Bellatrix. It's like the blonde haired woman can see into your head!

"Have you?" Her clear blue eyes gaze at you innocently.

"Yes," you sigh out, reluctantly answering her. Your pen taps on your pad impatiently.

"It's gross and it can lead to worse things if the infection spreads or is left untreated. Sometimes you can't heal it from the outside, but have to heal it from the inside. And how do you start healing this wound?"

You hold back from rolling your eyes and feel a tinge of shame as you realize that you are being really rude to your patient. Is it from the lack of sleep? Must be. It would drive anyone crazy. "How?" you play along.

"By addressing it." She smiles and leans back in her chair as if she has just cracked the greatest mystery of all time. You are not as impressed.

"And I'm sorry, but how does this relate to anything?"

"Bellatrix gave you a festering wound." When she sees you patting the bruise around your eye she giggles, a lithe feathery thing. "No, not the bruise around your eyes, which Bellatrix probably gave you. I'm talking about here," Luna points at her chest. "She gave you a wound inside here, and unless you figure out and address it, then it will rot you to your core and eat you alive."

Your lips curl up in disapproval. "And what exactly is it that I have to figure out?"

Luna's lips curl up in amusement. "You tell me."

* * *

The weekend arrives and you couldn't be happier that it is here. Finally you can get the shut eye you deserve. Or so you think.

Saturday morning arrives and Bellatrix is screeching at you to wake up and take her on a hiking trip. You groan and moan and roll over to avoid her but at last give in to her. You're not happy about being her personal chauffeur and make this abundantly clear the whole ride over. She is too happy to be out of the house to truly absorb your ire filled words. She drags and pulls you with her into the woods and you clop after her, the dark bags under your eyes weighting more than the bags on your back.

Somehow you manage to climb to the part she wants to go visit with you and then climb all the way back to the car. You pack up, already dreaming of your bed when she announces she has got to go to the bathroom. You settle down in the driver seat, and wait for her while she uses it. Your eyes slip closed before you can even help it and next thing you know is that you are on the backseat of your car, a blanket covering you. You get up, rubbing your eyes in confusion. You don't remember lying here.

"Bellatrix?" you murmur out and something shifts in the dark of the car. Wait, why is it dark in here? You exit the car, the air chilly outside. It's night time and the parking lot the car is in is dim. Bellatrix is sitting outside on the hood. "Bellatrix?" you ask, your voice rough from just waking up. She tips her head slightly towards you, the only indication she is listening to you. Her eyes are up on the stars.

"Did you move me to the back seat?" you ask, sliding up onto the hood with her.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just wake me?"

"You were tired. I figured you could use some sleep."

You let out a surprised grunt. "Since when do you care about other people?"

She looks down at her feet, hanging off of the hood. She swings one than the other. "I figured I owed you for keeping you up at night so often." She looks at you, her eyes matching the dark around you two.

"Glad to see you have some sense of social rules. What happened to being, fuck the rules! I am my own person," you say, trying your best to do an impression of her.

She tsks. "Don't think too much into it. I would have driven us both back if I still had my license. They took it away because I was too mentally ill." She wrinkles her nose at this.

"That hasn't stopped you before." You recall the time she took the two of you drag racing. It was a wild night and fun, even though it scared the shit out of you in the past, the adrenaline pumping through your veins increasing your panic. You feel you have become braver now. Bellatrix has dragged you on so many dangerous adventures that your immunity to craziness has increased.

She shrugs, deciding not to answer anymore. The two of you continue looking at the stars. The palm of her hand rests closely to your palm and you are intensely aware of the small distance between the two. If you were to slide it over just a bit, the two would be touching.

Wait, why would you want it to be touching anyways? Weird.

"I think Narcissa is onto us," you say, looking for something, anything to break the silence. You admire the profile of her face, glowing pale in the weak light.

"Why?" Her eyes blaze with worry.

"She said she could smell your scent all over me."

Bellatrix frowns at this. Without warning she leans closer to you, so close that her face is basically touching your neck. She takes a deep breath in and you hold your own breath, afraid to breathe with her so near. You can feel the warmth radiating from her and it is so inviting. You want to lean into it more but resist the need to do so. "You do smell like me," she says, perplexed as she leans back. "I guess it's from sharing the bed. You'll have to do something about it and cover it up better. I'm surprised she managed to smell it though. It's not that strong."

"Maybe you should be the one to cover up your scent," you joke weakly.

She nods her head, a half amused laugh coming from her lips as she lapses into silence once more. You resist the urge to look at her and look to the sky instead.

Minutes pass, your mind blank as you gaze at the stars.

Her getting off the hood breaks your mindless concentration. "What? Want to go home?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I have an idea. There's an abandoned house around here. I wanna check it out."

"Bellatrix, it's late. We should we getting home. Besides, I know it's not going to be safe, walking around there."

But there is a spark in her eye, one that you have come to understand means she is on a roll and won't be dissuaded no matter what. You sigh because you know you will agree to going with her, if only you don't have to worry about her hurting herself. You hop off the hood too. "Alright, where is it, so that we can get there sooner and leave even faster."

She throws a smile over her shoulder. "Where's the fun if I tell you. You'll have to trust me to lead you there." Then she opens the car door to grab a bag for the journey, tossing one to you before getting hers.

The woods are dark and if it weren't for your flashlight and Bellatrix guiding you, you would have tripped over everything. But she is confident among the trees and brush and she gets the two of you to the abandoned house in record time.

"Why do you even want to check out an empty house anyways?" you ask, slightly out of breath as the house is on a rocky hill and it takes you more energy to climb this part than the other lengths of the trail before.

"Why would I _not_ want to check one out, is the better question," she shoots you a cheeky look over her shoulder. "Where's your sense of adventure, doc?"

"In a good book," you flatly respond with and she tsks. "Ah, but that is no way to truly live a life."

You don't reply to that, focusing on conserving your breath and on making it up. When you finally manage the climb and find yourself by the front step of the house, Bellatrix is busy at the lock, trying to pick it open with some bobby pins. "Can you hold your light on me?" You do as she says but reluctantly.

"Great, now we're breaking and entering. I thought we were only going on a quick hike. Don't tell me you want to go in?"

"Of course I want to go in. I want to see what's inside."

"Why?" you ask, not understanding this flow of logic. "Is it just because you can? Just to cause chaos to laws that dictate we should not do such things?" You try to get an answer out of her but she merely shrugs in the glow of the flashlight you have trained on her. "I'm just curious. I want to explore a place that hasn't been explored before."

"I'm sure people have lived here before. Thus that takes away from your point," you try hard not to roll your eyes, and then when you realize she can't see your face right now, you roll them.

"No one has been here ever since the accident."

"What accident?" you immediately feel a hint of panic strike you at the same moment those words rush out of you.

She doesn't answer as there is a click and suddenly the door swings open. From inside the stench of rot and disuse floats out. Without another word she grabs her pack and flashlight from where they were on the ground and strides in. Why do you always let yourself get talked into these things? Following her with a groan that speaks loudly to how little you want to be here, you close the door behind you, both of you in the complete dark of the house.

The floor boards creak under your every step and shadows move and melt under the bend of your flashlight. Everything is draped in white sheets, all covered in dust, making them gray and drab. You feel on edge. You really shouldn't be breaking into private property even if it hasn't been used for years. "We're not staying here long," you tell her and you don't know if she's heard you. She just keeps walking, turning the corner into the kitchen. There on the floor you see dried puddles of something dark and your mind jumps to the worst conclusion, one that apparently seems to be right.

"This is where they died," Bellatrix whispers, stopping right in front of the stain. You stand in back of her, light trained on her figure, not brave enough to look directly at what is looking. "This is where he killed them all."

"Who?" you whisper right back, swallowing down a lump in your throat that rises at the thought of standing in the middle of a past crime scene.

"The man of this house. The father of the family. Killed his wife right here, with a big old butcher knife, as stood making breakfast," Bellatrix moved her flashlight over to the stove and you notice there is a big blood stain there too. "When she screamed she attracted the kids. They were two boys, both in their teens. They tried to help but...they were no match for a man with vengeance on his mind."

You can almost imagine it. Four people, non-descriptive faces and plain clothes, struggling valiantly over a knife, three trying hard to preserve life and one trying to ruin it. A shiver runs down your back and you shake the images away even as Bellatrix's voice draws you into the tale. "How do you know all this?" you ask her.

There is silence as she continues to stare at the spots on the floor. Then she slowly turns to you, her flashlight right on her face, casting weird shadows. She looks downright eerie this way, almost like she is a kid at a sleepover, telling some silly horror story. But this isn't just some story. It's real. "He was one of my therapists."

"Oh," is all you can think to say, your words sticking in your throat.

"I was still in therapy when he did this. When he went on his rampage. He came right into the office afterwards, covered in blood, and told me it was all my fault this happened. That he had snapped because he couldn't deal with me anymore." There was a dry chuckle there. "What a funny man. I knew he was only blaming his weaknesses, his unhappy marriage, on me. I thought he was a stable good man, a great father figure, but he proved me wrong."

"Not all therapists are like that," you stammer out, your brain still trying to process what occurred. How terrifying it must be to have a therapist come in soaked in blood and blame everything on the patient. "I'm sure he had his issues. Sure something..." you trail off, not knowing what to say next. Having a therapist turn out like that would be a frightening experience for anyone, especially if someone was already unstable. She doesn't prompt you to finish. A frown grows on her face.

"Why are fathers such vile things? Why do they want to destroy the good things they have?" Her voice wavers and she has lowered her flashlight so you can't see her face. You can sense that she doesn't want you to see it right now, so you keep your flashlight lowered respectfully.

"I don't know," you tell her, not able to think of anything that seems right to say in this moment. "Not every father is bad. There are good ones out there too. You just had the misfortune of having a bad one. One who couldn't appreciate the things he had. One who was sick." You place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze in comfort. Her shoulder's only tense up.

Did she only see father figures in a negative light? Did she drag you out here not for fun, her curiosity being a pretense, but to tell you this story, to show you that there were no good fathers in the world? Because she was wrong. There were good men out there. Your father had been one.

"Bellatrix-"

She shrugs off your hand. "I know you can't solve the issues of this world, doc. And what has happened in the past happened. It's not your fault." At this her flashlight goes back up, illuminating a most mischievous of grins. She's burying her feelings with mischief. "How about we do some exploring?"

She runs off somewhere and you let out a sigh. You definitely do not feel comfortable leaving things as they are, and even less comfortable running around in Bellatrix's ex-therapists murder house, but you can't leave her alone right now. So you go searching for her before she can get too lost. Or before you do.

* * *

"Remind me never to follow any of your dumb ideas," you grit out behind clenched teeth. You hurt all over, but mainly your leg and your face, both feeling as if they are on fire. You sit on the car seat, the door open so that you can hang your legs out. Your left knee is bloody and bruised. Bellatrix leans in front of it with an alcohol swab as she nurses it to the best of her ability. "I always end up nearly dying." Trying to find her in the house, you had walked up the stairs, only for them to end up being rotted through. On the fifth step up, the wood had given out and you had fallen down harshly, so quickly that you hadn't been able to even stop yourself. Attracted by your screams, Bellatrix had managed to find you, amusement on her face at your state.

"Don't overexagerrate," she says, squinting at your now less bloody leg. Satisfied with her work she begins to plaster band-aids on.

"I fell down a flight of fucking stairs! I'm not over-exaggerating. And did you so happen to forget I almost drowned when I jumped off a cliff with you?"

"The ocean was not my fault. You were drunk. And I saved your life." She straightens up at this, tossing the band aid wrappers into the rest of the first aid kit. "Besides, it was funny when you fell down the stairs. You let out the funniest noise ever," she chuckles, a small smile on her lips as she replays the memory.

"Glad my near death could provide you with entertainment," you mutter darkly. "And my face is bleeding too, or did you forget?" You point at your face where your lips are split, the bottom lip leaking red onto your chin. You already wiped most of it away with a tissue but you need some alcohol to disinfect.

Bellatrix takes your chin into her hand and looks it over, a contemplative look on her face. "It'll be fine. You just need to put a little saliva on it." Her facial expression is calling you a big baby right now.

"Yes, because I can spit a perfect trajectory to my bottom lip without it looking gross or weird." You roll your eyes at her. You want to go home already and call it a night. You move to get up to get into the driver's seat but Bellatrix doesn't move out of the way so you end in her personal space, her nose an inch away from yours. Instead of backing up her face comes up closer to you, her lips descending down on your bottom one. Your eyes go wide as the full moon in the sky above you two and your whole body just stops as do your thoughts, except for the one that keeps going on repeat that right now Bellatrix Black is sucking on your bottom lip. Your _bottom_ lip. Holy shit. _Why_? And why does it feel _so_ good?

She's suckling on it gently. Your eyes flutter close. You are so close to her mouth you could kiss her right now. Right now and it would be perfect. But before you can think about it some more she's gone, pulling away.

"There, some saliva on your lip. It should be fine now." She pats your cheek patronizingly, slips into the car and the warm fuzzy moment is gone. You stand there, looking stupid, before you slap yourself mentally. You need to go back home. All this meant nothing. It wasn't even a kiss. It was nothing more than her trying to help you out in her own peculiar way.

It was nothing.

It _meant_ nothing.

Nothing.

Then why is your heart beating like this?

Why is your throat parched?

You get behind the wheel and pull the car away. Yet no matter how hard you try to stop thinking about it, it remains on the forefront of your mind. Bellatrix doesn't seem to be as mentally anguished as you are. She promptly falls asleep as soon as the car hits the road.

As you drive you can't resist from taking looks at her, your eyes falling on her lips. Those lips that had been just on yours...so close...yet so far.

You shake your head and force yourself to think of Sasha. You may need to call her tonight for some...much needed relief.


	16. Chapter 16

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

Session 16: The Game is Over

* * *

 _Creating chaos just to prove we're alive  
Demolition of a delicate kind  
Midnight confessions keep on blurring the line  
Say you're here on my side  
Want you here on my side- State of Seduction, Digital Daggers  
_

* * *

Another week passes and you continue living with Bellatrix. You've moved yourself to the couch downstairs in order to get some sleep because her night terrors have still not ended. She's gotten better at waking up from them without any outside assistance but you need your sleep for your job and can't be in the same bed with her and since she won't give up the bed you have to. You figure that since it's only for a couple more weeks, that you can manage to sleep downstairs instead of your luxurious bed.

The couch is an extendable one so you have a lot of space and quickly add many pillows to fluff up your night rest. Today you are already knocked out on your couch and barely register the screams that come from upstairs. What does wake you up is the pattering of bare feet on wooden floors and the dip of your couch as someone sits on it right next to your face.

It's Bellatrix.

"What do you want?" you mumble out, barely coherent and not even bothering to open your eyes up more than a sliver to look at her.

"I had a bad dream and I kind of don't want to sleep by myself," she whispers, her voice trembling. You give out a huge groan and roll over so that your back is facing her. You know what she's asking.

"Bellatrix you can't sleep with me."

"But I can't sleep by myself."

You sigh heavily. You are in no mood to argue. You just want to go back to sleep.

"Fine," you move over, letting her lie down next to you. Her cold legs briefly brush against yours and you move your own legs away in reaction. You make sure to keep as much space as is possible between the two of you as the couch bed will allow. Within moments you are back asleep.

You wake up the next morning to find that unconsciously the two of your bodies drifted closer and you are staring into her face across the sheets from yours. In the early daylight her facial features look softer. No creases between her eyes, no harshness on her lips. She looked entirely at peace right now. You catch yourself staring at her for too long so you decide to slip out and go make breakfast.

You feel slightly fancy today-it is Sunday after all- and pull out some bacon to chop up. The smell of sizzling eggs and greens wakes Bellatrix up because she comes into the kitchen sniffing heavily and dragging her hands through her messy hair. "Is the doc cooking up some grub?" She asks in a sleep heavy voice. It's husky in a delectable way and makes your insides squeeze warmly.

"Yes," you look up briefly to look at her and let out a hiss of pain when you cut yourself due to your momentary lapse in attention. Your pointer finger is oozing blood all over the bacon bits and before you can even grab a tissue to staunch the bleeding, Bellatrix grabs you by the wrist and puts your finger into her mouth. You can feel your throat tighten up and your eyes never leave her face as she sucks on your finger. Her mouth is warm and wet and makes the perfect shape around your finger. She looks steadily back at you and you vaguely are aware that the eggs must be burning and that you need to flip them but you can't with her doing this. At last when she finishes she lets go of your finger with a small pop.

You continue looking at her before you glance down at your wet digit. The cut has stopped bleeding but it still looks angry and red. "Why do you...why the obsession with blood?" You ask softly, locking your eyes on her face once more.

She looks back levelly before she shrugs and breaks eye contact. "I guess I value it a lot. Don't want to waste it or something. I lost a lot to the dogs," she adds in a hushed tone and her hand unconsciously travels to her abdomen where her scars rest. Your lips thin at this knowledge and you don't really know what to say to her and neither does she for she focuses on the bacon instead.

"Let me help with that," she offers and you move over to grab a band aid to wrap around your finger. With deft hands she sets to work on fixing the breakfast you were unsuccessfully trying to make. You watch her, leaning against the counter, unsure what to do with yourself now. She's wearing all black pj's-is there anything that she owns that isn't black?-the sleeves covering her arms. Does she always wear long sleeves? Has she never worn a t-shirt because of the scars on her body?

"You should wear a tank top," you blurt out and she tosses a confused look over her shoulder as her spatula flips the eggs.

"What?"

"I know you wear long sleeved shirts to cover your scars but you shouldn't do that."

"And why not?" She snaps defensively. "What if I like long sleeved shirts?"

"Not in the dead of summer, especially not Californian summer." You don't like her defensive questions. She's feeling uncomfortable but you have to press on with this issue. "By hiding the scars you got then it only validates your father's anger and violence towards you. If you show them off proudly then you are accepting them and showing him that he has no control over you with these wounds."

She doesn't say anything just stirs the bacon violently as she adds it to the pan.

You go on, not letting her silence deter you. "You don't have to go out right away with wearing a t-shirt. Just wear it around the house or something." You pause. She still doesn't speak up. "I won't judge you."

"How generous of you," she sneers and her shoulders tense up.

"Bellatrix, this is important. You can't let these scars dictate the way you live. If I had scars I would show them off."

"Well you don't. And even if you did it would be fine, and you know why that is?" She whips around, her dark eyes glimmering cruelly to cover up the hurt in them. "Because you're not a nearly forty year old woman."

Ah, so low self esteem about her age was coming into play here. "You look good for your age. Really good," you tell her, feeling a bit mortified that you are admitting this to her. It almost sounds like you are hitting on her. But she needs the confidence boost and you are the only one currently here that can give her one. "My goal is to aspire to look as good as you when I get older."

She lets out a derisive snort and turns back to the food. Clearly not believing you. "I'm not lying to you. I'm speaking the truth." When she still doesn't turn around you decide to give up for now and relegate this to a later therapy session with her.

Sunday flies by with the two of chatting casually about TV shows and then watching them until the day grows dark and it is time to go back to sleep. Only Bellatrix once more comes downstairs after her night terror is over. She's trembling and tears are running down her face and she asks if she can sleep with you again. You grunt out an agreement, too tired and still half asleep to care. She buries her face into your shirt, wetting it with her tears but she calms down in your arms and the two of you drift off to sleep.

This begins to become a common occurrence, so common that you don't even wake when she slides into the covers next to you. And each morning you wake up, tangled limbs and faces mere inches away from each other. Your heart throbs then, when you wake up and see her sleeping so peacefully next to you. You wonder if anyone has ever held her before, comforted her with even a hug as a young child. You pick up her arm one morning, the sleeve having crawled up to her elbow and exposed her scars. They didn't look too bad. Acting on instinct you raise the skin up to your lips and kiss it lightly. "Scars aren't ugly. They are a reminder of how full of life and fight you are." You whisper this, the words hanging in the morning air. Then you narrow your eyes and drop the arm, wondering what the hell you are doing. Shaking your head you slip out of bed and get ready to go to work.

Luna is one of your patients today and when she comes in, in a cloud of fruit scented perfume, she plops down on her chair and crosses her legs. "So? Do tell. Have you figured it out?"

"Figured what out?" you ask her, confused.

"The wound that it is that Bellatrix gave you."

You shake your head. "Honestly, Luna I don't know what to tell you. I can't find anything wrong with myself."

"Not wrong with you. Goodness no," a brief chuckle breaks from her lips. "It's something that has changed and _can_ go wrong if you don't address it."

You shake your head at her, your curls bouncing. "Still no success with it, I can assure you."

She frowns, a small downturn of the lips. "That's strange," she mumbles to herself. "She should have figured it out by now. Maybe I should give her a clue?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing nothing," she smiles brightly at you and folds her hands on her lap. "I look forward to our next sessions doctor."

* * *

Time continues to fly by and before you know it, one month has passed. One month with living with Bellatrix as a house guest. One month with living with all her faults and fights. And oh boy, you two do fight a lot when you're not inclined to be civil to each other. She is easy to set off and you've learned to dodge the books and pots and pans and potted plants and whatever else is in her grasp when she flies off the handle. And when you're not physically fighting it's verbal face offs, looking to see who can maim the other the most without having to lift a hand. Granted, she is trying and has gotten a bit better with her temper but there are still things you will not see eye to eye on, the biggest source of conflict arising from her messy upkeep on the house.

She leaves chaos in every room she enters, like a tornado, swallowing everything up and spitting it out either broken or altered. Her clothes, books, plates of food and other personal articles (meaning bras, but seriously who leaves a bra hanging off the lighting fixture in the kitchen? How does that even get there?). This mess drove you crazy, as how could one person cause so much in such a little span of time? You always have to go around and clean up for her, and no matter how much you scold her to clean up she barely listens to you, treating you almost like her personal assistant.

Her constant presence in your house is like the equivalent of having a child there. She perpetually demands your attention on any small matter, cutting into your time to relax from your job. She gets bored easily and often it is up to you to provide entertainment for her. She can barely sit still and the energy has rubbed off on you. It's infectious, creeping under your skin. Her rudeness is also something that has infested you. You begin to notice that you've become nastier and that you've lost some of the patience you were once so proud of. This is concerning, the way she is corrupting your character so easily.

The only good part out of this living arrangement is the fact that she cooks all the meals for you both. And boy, is her cooking good. She simply creates masterpieces on the plates and you are astonished she has so much skill since it doesn't seem smart to let her next to the knives. But other than that you can't see any pluses with living with her. She hasn't come any closer to spilling the truth on her secrets, beside the dog incident and her intense hatred for her father, magically disappearing every time you decide you will bring her past up. Not to mention she chased your cat out of the house. She didn't physically chase him out, but she might as well have. Due to her tantrums and loud behaviors, Crookshanks got too frightened to be around her and simply disappeared one day. You figured he ran away and hoped he would come back some time soon, leaving bowls of cat food outside for him in case he was hungry.

Her sister also has been pestering you. It's reasonable given that Bellatrix has disappeared out of the blue and can in no way be found. Narcissa hasn't gone to the police yet, probably as Bellatrix's running away's are most likely common. The blonde woman assumes you have something to do with it and is clearly waiting for you to slip up and let it become knowledge that you know of Bellatrix's location. You have kept your lips tightly shut, although it eats you alive that you have to lie to Narcissa. It doesn't sit right with you but if you admit the truth than it could only lead to you getting in trouble and you do not want that. It's also been a month since Narcissa first asked and there is no way to come clean to her without having a lot to answer to first.

On the upside, you were no longer lonely, and you weren't referring to Bellatrix in this situation. Sasha, the girl you referred to last time for your hook up, kept hitting you up and you kept meeting up with her, going on dates to bars, to clubs, to movies, to restaurants, to any place you could. The more time you spent trapped in the house with Bellatrix, the more you wanted to be out and about with Sasha; the more your interest in her grew. There was a slight issue in meeting up as you couldn't take Sasha back to your place because Bellatrix was there, but you knew Bellatrix had an inkling of a clue as to where you were going out on your nights despite you keeping it low key. And for some reason she got upset whenever you set out, the earlier teasing about your 'friend' turning into a resentment of some sort. She didn't say anything but she didn't have to. You could tell from her sour facial expressions that she was unhappy. At first you couldn't understand why she felt this way. Perhaps it was the fact that you weren't telling her anything about it that had her feeling this way. But you had already opened up much of your private life to her (Bellatrix simple does not understand the concept of bathroom privacy, waltzing in when you're about to shower or relieve yourself) and you didn't feel like sharing this part too. However, when she saw the woman that you were hanging out with for the first time, she didn't look unhappy. She looked amused and she certainly acted the part.

It happened at a bar. You and Sasha were out getting drinks after this show you had just watched. The weather had been nice outside and your mind had been the furthest thing away from Bellatrix it had been in a while. Sasha had been rubbing circles on your thighs all night long and the two of your heads were in close proximity as you whispered to one another, giggling about secretive things in the corner booth of the dark bar. You had had quite a lot to drink and you were ready to go home and have some fun. You pulled Sasha's ear close and had let her know your intentions for the night. The dark haired woman had laughed in delight and taken your hand but as the both of you stumbled out towards the door you bumped into the arm of a bar patron. There was a thud and a splash as something hit the floor and wet your shoes.

"Watch where you're going, you idiot! You spilled my drink." The woman's high pitched voice, a bit slurred, cut at you.

"Sorry," you mumbled, brushing some hair from your eyes aside so you could see better. The woman turned around and her glare turned into one of amusement when her eyes landed on the both of you. She pointedly looks at the conjoined hands, snickering vilely.

"Well, well, what do we have here. The little doctor and her little gal toy. So this is who you've been spending time with. Rushing off for a rump in the bed sheets are you?"

"Bellatrix," you scowl. What are the odds the woman is out at a bar on a Thursday night? You specifically picked places she wouldn't be likely to attend but here she was and dressed provocatively for a night out. Your gaze lingered longer on her generous cleavage then it should have.

"You should be home. Why aren't you home?" Her sister could find her here. It wasn't safe for her to be about, but you feel like you should have foreseen this happening. She's been restless and the weekend trips to locations in the woods or out of state are not cutting it for her. Especially since you've given up on them momentarily in order to spend more time with Sasha.

"Do you know her Hermione?" Sasha asks, feeling intimidated by the older woman. She teeters unsteadily and holds onto your arm with her other hand to level herself.

"Know her?" Bellatrix cackles and you know the older woman is not going to give this up so easily. She has been interested in finding out who this person you were meeting up with was for the longest time and now she had the chance to tease the hell out of you for it. "I live with her!" She placed her hands on her hips proudly.

"You two live together?" Sasha turned a hurt gaze on you. "How come you never told me?" You visibly cringe.

"It's a temporary situation," you hasten to explain but Sasha has already looped her arm away from yours. Ah, jealousy. What an ugly emotion.

"Oh, it's more than temporary. I think I'm beginning to fancy staying with her. She's quite the...talented one," Bellatrix says in a low growl, pouncing on the jealousy she sees in Sasha's eyes. She wraps an arm around your shoulder and you push her off roughly as soon as you can.

"Stop that," you hiss at her but she merely cackles.

Sasha is looking angry.

"I wasn't aware the two of you had that sort of relationship," she sniffs angrily and storms out of the bar.

"Sasha, it's not like that!" You shout after her but she's already gone. "You are an asshole," you let Bellatrix know before you shove past her in a bid to chase after Sasha. You stumble out onto the beach and it is crawling with people at this time of the night. You search the crowds but cannot see her. You head over to a more secluded part of the beach, behind some rocks where it is quiet. You lean against the cool stone and pull out your phone. The line rings but no one picks up. Huffing angrily you pocket your phone. Well, there went your plans for the night. You're upset that Sasha didn't even let you explain things. But you are more pissed off that Bellatrix ruined this for you. You should have expected that she would eventually show up. She's been curious about who you've been seeing for the longest time. You had found her snooping through your phone once.

You decide it's time to wrap up and go home. You'll talk to Sasha in the morning. She'll be more understanding then as well as more sober. Rubbing your arms to comfort yourself, you turn to leave but Bellatrix is there. Leaning against the rocks as casually as could be. "Heading home? Did I ruin your night for you? Are you upset doc?" Her voice is smug.

"Piss off," you tell her with as much venom in your voice as you can muster. "Why don't you just butt out of things. I come home and I can't have any peace of mind because you're always riding my jock about this little thing or that little thing and now when I want to have fun with my friend you can't even let me enjoy that!"

Bellatrix is not put off by your anger, instead she is emboldened by it. "That's a weird definition of friend doctor." She takes a step forward, looking predatory. Her long dark locks blow in the breeze coming off of the ocean. You swallow as she comes closer and closer. Your shoulders brush the rock behind you as you back away. "And I couldn't help noticing that she looked very similar to someone we both know." She toyed with the tip of one of your curls, her eyes focusing on it. "Let me give you a clue since you're so silent. It's me." She picked up her eyes at this and you can feel the breath leaving your lungs. Her eyes are so piercing and you can feel yourself sinking into them. The pent up arousal from before the date was ruined, runs in your veins. "Her dark hair, her pale skin. In looks she's pretty much the same. Tell me doc, why is that?" Her hands come up to box you in and her warm breath, heavy with scent of whiskey, washes over your face. Your mouth opens up in attempt to speak but you can't. Your mind is growing fuzzy.

"Let me make a guess. Did you pick someone who looks like me on purpose because you actually want to fuck me?" Her hushed words send a shiver down your spine. Your fingers come to dig into her hips, yet you resist the urge to pull her closer. Her body is close enough as it is already and you don't want to risk her getting nearer. _Or else what would happen?_ You muss to yourself.

"Is that it, pet? Do you want to _fuck_ me? But you can't so you go out chasing girls that look like me?" There is amusement in her voice; she is teasing you. She finds this much too hilarious.

"It's not like that-" you stammer to answer, realizing you have been quiet for far too long. You have a hard time arguing against her words because they feel suspiciously true.

"When the two of you do it, do you imagine it's me writhing under you? Or are you the one writhing under her? Do tell, pet. I'm so very curious." Her voice is husky and she presses her lips next to your ear as her words slip into your brain and turn it to mush. Your mind fills with images of you and her in various positions. A shiver rocks your body at the proximity of her mouth and you know you need that mouth somewhere else.

Her lips, so close and soft, become something you latch onto and your hands tangle in her hair as you draw her close. Her scent envelops you and you lose yourself to the sensation of lips on lips. Your body soars at being able to kiss her and you want to stay pressed like this to her but she pulls back from you. "What have you done?" her hoarse whisper asks you and you have no answer for her, your dull and drunk eyes staring into her more sober ones.

What were you thinking?

You weren't thinking, that's what happened. But you won't let it linger at this. She can't have the upper hand.

"Isn't this what you were begging for? Isn't this what you were hoping for, acting the way you were? Don't think I didn't see it. The jealousy in your eyes when you saw me with her." You put some vitriol into your words, knowing now as you say this that is is true. Her snooping around, her resentment at you leaving with Sasha for outings. She was upset you were spending time with someone else besides her. But was this jealousy a romantic one? You didn't think so- it seemed implausible for it to be so, yet the fact still stood that she was behaving so vilely because of your relations. Had she said all those things just to ruffle your feathers? To make you feel guilty that you were doing things without her?

Filled with some bravery due to your anger, you fling at her her own accusations. "Why so peeved? Upset that I won't fuck you? You want me to? How do you imagine it? With me on top, or on the bottom?" You edge at her and this time she is the one who backs away, fright in her eyes, disgust and horror on her features. It takes her a while to find her tongue and when she does she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Fuck you. I don't want you and I most certainly don't like you. Stay away from me!" With that she stumbles away from you and off the beach, kicking up sand in her hurry.

You look after her for a while before you sink down to the cold sand. You feel empty and sick after that exchange, it taking something out of you. You feel rejected at her words, and you don't know why. All you know is that you are so damn tired of this, of this game she is spinning you on. Everything is a giant joke with her. _You're_ a giant joke to her. And now you've just let her gain a giant lead in this dance of wills that the two of you play, all because you couldn't control your fucking hormones. There is no way to come back from this because you were the one who kissed her and not the other way around.

Filled with anger at that thought you rise to your feet and kick the sand violently, the grains arching in the air before they collapse to the ground.

"Fuck you Bellatrix. Fuck you and your sick twisted games!"

You rage some more before you collapse to the sand, spent, chest heaving from exertion. You don't have the energy or will to move right now, so you close your eyes and let sleep take you on these cold empty sands.


	17. Chapter 17

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 16: Supernova_

 **A/N: So they finally kissed. About time, right?**

You make it back to your house, sore and tired from sleeping out on the beach all night. There's sand everywhere and you smell like the sea. The events of last night repeat in your head and you wonder what the hell you are going to do about this now. Why did you kiss her? Was it just because you were horny? Because she looked like Sasha?

Bellatrix's words from before swirl in your head. _Do you want to fuck me? Is that why she looks so much like me?_ Her words leave a sour taste in your mouth.

 _So what if Sasha looks like her!_ You grit your teeth, a pounding headache forming between your eyes.

 _Stop thinking about it!_ You scold yourself.

You hesitate before your door, slightly scared. What can you tell Bellatrix? You will have to apologize to her sooner or later. Will she be angry? Will she sue you? You shouldn't be acting like this, even if you aren't her therapist any longer.

You sigh and unlock the door. The sight that greets you inside makes you want to retract your apology right away. Chairs, tables, bookcases have been flipped over. All the drawers in every single cabinet have been either thrown out, all their contents lying spewed on the floor or left hanging haphazardly out. The curtains have been ripped down and clothing, _your clothing_ , is trailing down the stairs from your closet and spread out on the floor.

You pause in the doorway, your mouth hanging open and the headache between your eyes growing. You are at a loss for words right now. You close the door behind you loudly, feeling ire take over your body.

Your nostrils flare as you step into the house, your feet crunching on something. It must be broken glass. The house is quiet and when you go in deeper you see that Bellatrix is in the kitchen. Kitchen utensils are lying all over the floor, a knife or two planted hilt deep into a wall, and she is sitting in the middle of it all, pretzel style, eating from a carton of ice cream. If she notices your presence she doesn't say anything, instead eating calmly and all her focus on the carton between her legs. This for some reason, the image of her sitting as if she didn't do anything wrong, pushes you off the edge.

"Get up," you growl at her.

She looks up at this, frowning around the spoon in her mouth. She's eating your favorite ice cream to add insult to injury.

"Get up," you repeat, your voice so low and tight it is a struggle to get it past your throat; it feels like your own words are choking you.

She furrows her brows at you but doesn't get up. So you decide to give her a helping hand. You grab her by the upper arm and roughly pull her to her feet. "Ouch, let go!" she hisses, slapping your hands away. You rip the spoon from between her teeth in retaliation and toss it to the floor. It rings loudly against the floor. "Why did you decimate my house? Tell me why?"

"Because," she crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin haughtily, about to arrogantly protect her actions, but then sees your face and reconsiders. She can sense the anger boiling off of you and is scared but tries to hide it, by taking up a power stance. "You violated my personal space." This is said quietly.

"You violated my space first! If anyone should have a right to trash the house it should be me!" You point violently at yourself.

"I wasn't violating it!" she snaps back, but there is no real anger in her voice. She knows she fucked up and is afraid of what's going to happen next. "I was merely having a chat with you. You were the one who assaulted me with their mouth!"

"Oh, so now everything is my fault, is it?" You pound your hands to your chest, feeling twitchy from all the ire boiling inside you. "You are such a hypocrite!"

"A hypocrite?" She rears back at this, not used to having this insult flung at her.

"You violate my space on a daily basis. I can't even sleep on my couch in peace without you coming downstairs and taking up my space. Not only is the fact that you've kicked me out of my own bed not good enough for you, but now you have to kick me out of my couch too!" Like a broken dam, all that you have bottled up comes pouring out of you.

"That's-"

You cut her off, on a rant. "And you are absolutely the worst housemate ever. You leave a mess wherever you go, you trash my shit, you won't give me any fucking peace or privacy, always barging in with some inane demand on your lips. And don't even get me started on the other things! You're driving me fucking insane." You raise both hands up at this.

"Is that how you really feel?" Bellatrix asks, her voice soft and a disgruntled look on her face.

"Yes, of course that's how I fucking feel! In fact I want you to get out." The words pop out of your mouth before you can even think them.

"You want-"

"Get out of my fucking house right this instant!"

Bellatrix's features twisted in confusion. You didn't have the patience to repeat yourself. "I said get out. Out!" You fling a hand out to indicate the door behind you.

Still she was looking confused, as if she couldn't believe you were actually saying this. Your patience runs out. She is moving too slowly. You need her out the house and now. "Out, out, OUT!" You scream, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering out towards the door. She doesn't fight back or even say anything. She just lets you do this.

With a violent shove that almost sends her flying off her feet, you push her out the door. She regains her footing and then turns a slightly panicked look to you. You slam the door on her before she can say anything, the echo of it ringing around the house. You stand there for a while, breathing heavily, as if you had just run a marathon.

When your breath slows down a bit, you turn around and face the mess that is your house. Looking at it only pisses you off again so you decide to get a drink. You look through the liquor cabinet, thankfully the alcohol left unscathed. You uncork a bottle of your strongest stuff, fill a glass to the brim with it and plop down on the floor by your overturned armchair. A pile of books, their pages loosened, lie next to you and you pick one of them up. Nothing goes together better than alcohol and good literature. You immerse yourself in the fictional world to forget the mess of your current world.

Gradually the alcohol takes affect and it makes you sleepy. Instead of bothering to go to bed, you curl up on the floor of your house, the carpet imprinting into your soft cheek.

A loud thundering noise wakes you up and you jolt up, looking around. You had dreams of war and destruction and for a split second you thought the sound of war was real; that it wasn't a mere dream. But as you look out the window you see that it is storming and raining something dreadful. You'd hate to be out in that weather. You decide to go back to sleep, this time in your bed, but a sudden thought freezes you.

Shit, Bellatrix! You kicked her out of the house. Was she outside in this weather right now? Fuck, fuck. Why'd you do that? It was incredibly stupid of you to do so.

Cursing yourself and your temper you stumble up, carefully treading a way through the mess on your floor in the pitch black of the house. You had to go find her. Was she still on the door step? You tear open the door only to be greeted by a wet breeze. Outside it is dark and dank and wet and nobody is out on the streets. Shit, where was she? Where could she have gone? If anything happened to her it was all your fault!

You shut the door again and race upstairs to put on your rain jacket. You had to go out there and find her. Grabbing a flashlight just in case, you rush out the house and to your car. The rain batters your face and you are drenched even though your car is not far away in your driveway. You duck inside and turn on the car, the headlights cutting through the dusk.

And in this manner you begin your search. You have no idea for how long you have slept for, or how far she has gotten, but you pray, pray fervently that she is okay, and that she is close by. You drive up and down streets, only the rain on your windshield as your companion. It is hard to see anything past the rain splattered windows and you bite your thumb in anxiety as you look and look and look and fuck-! You are so anxious. And worried. Where is she? Is she hurt? You can just imagine her lying in some ditch.

Did she go back to her sister's house? …..maybe? Would you risk going there? No, you shouldn't. But if worst came to worst...wait a second...a small thought worms into your head and builds the more you think about it. This kind of weather, deemed as dangerous by most, would be seen as interesting by Bellatrix. Bellatrix wouldn't be indoors anywhere in this type of weather and most certainly not in her sister's house because the blonde would hold her back from leaving. So that could only mean...

"She's in the fucking woods." You say this out loud to yourself, with a breath of relief. You jerk the steering wheel in the direction of the woods and floor it, heedless of the slippery roads and the way your wheels skid across them. It takes you thirty minutes by car to get there. You wonder if she walked there-probably, as you didn't even let her grab any cash or belongings when you kicked her out. This makes you wince harshly. How could you do such a thing? You were the mature one here. She was the one with temper disorders. It was normal of her to rage and yell but you?

No, not you.

You park your car in the empty parking lot of the woods that the both of you most recently frequent and hop out. The wind has gotten stronger and it tugs at your poncho as if trying to snatch it off and away. You click on the flashlight and use it to illuminate the trees in front of you with it. You felt hopeful before...but now? Now you've realized the magnitude of the task awaiting you. The forest is huge. There is no telling where she went in it...

You let out a groan. You feel so useless. What are you to do? Trying to swallow down the helplessness that is rising up in your throat you head out and into the woods. You pick one of the trails that you and Bellatrix used to walk on once. The dirt has turned to mud due to the rain and the trees creak and groan over your head. Your flashlight barely helps you see more than ten inches in front of you.

If only Bellatrix had a phone...but she had thrown her's out because she didn't want her sister tracking her through it. You walk through the woods, the cold rain cutting in. Your jeans are soaked, so is your face, and you wipe the rain water coming down it with shaking hands. "Bellatrix! Bellatrix!" You cry out, your words swallowed by the horrendous downpour of the rain. A snake of lighting flashes across the sky and thunder roaring like a wild beast covers up your desperate cries. "Bellatrix!" You keep yelling out, hoping that by some miracle she will hear you.

After yelling for quite a while you retire your voice, your throat burning up from all the exertion. The trail is about to end and you still haven't found her. It looked like it was time to head back. She wasn't here. Then where was she? You had no way of finding her, no way of contacting her. You swallow down bitterly, the taste of your failure filling your mouth. You head back to the car and slide in, too distressed to care that you are tracking mud and water inside it. You grip the wheel, the car not turned on yet. The storm rages on outside. You smack your head down hard on the wheel, once, twice. "Stupid, stupid," you growl out to yourself. How could you let this happen? How?

You start the car and head out. There's only one more place you can think to check of-you will not be quitting yet. You drive up to the fence surrounding Narcissa's mansion. You idle in front, dredging up the courage to tell her the situation. You will have to admit to Bellatrix staying with you. Should you tell her all the details? You think that can come later, right now she needs to send out a force to save her sister.

"I don't think you should go there."

The unexpected voice causes you to scream and you turn around to face the intruder who is in the car. It's Bellatrix and she smiles languidly at you, her arms folded on top of the back seat and chin propped up on them.

"Bellatrix," you huff, your heart racing in your chest. "What the fuck?"

"No cursing, doctor potty mouth," Bellatrix tsks and hauls herself over to sit on the back seat now.

"What the fuck where you doing in my trunk?" You say almost breathlessly, unable to believe your eyes.

"I got tired of waiting for you to change your mind and realize that you didn't really mean to throw me out of the house, so I decided to take a little nap in your trunk. I was awoken by you slamming your head onto the steering wheel- which by the way was very amusing." She smirks at you and for some reason this causes your hand to snake out and slap her hard across the cheek. Her head jerks harshly to the right and her hand comes up to her offended cheek.

"How could you?" you demand of her and she merely turns her head back to look at you. Her eyes are glimmering darkly but her lips are still curled up in amusement. You are just so angry all of a sudden that you can't really explain why. Is it because she was mocking you for freaking out over finding her? But you didn't really feel like rationalizing your anger at this point so you turned your focus back on her.

"How could I what? What are you blaming me for this time?"

"I was so worried for you and this whole time you were here...you were fucking here..." your voice chokes up and you know you are going to cry so you look away and set your forehead against the cool steering wheel, pressing your eyes tightly to hold in the tears.

There is a rustling noise and the shifting of weight and Bellatrix moves to sit in the passenger seat next to you. A warm hand comes around the back of your neck. "I'm sorry...for worrying you," the apology is reluctant, half hidden behind her heavy tongue. It sounds odd coming from her mouth; clunky and awkward. But she issues it because she is able to sense that for some reason her actions today really impacted you, and she has come too close to breaking you and she can't have that.

You know this-her giving an apology- is a momentous moment for she has never apologized to you for anything, but right now you are too emotionally distraught to investigate the implications of it.

You simply nod your head in acceptance of it, and her hand lifts off your neck. "We have to talk about all this," you inform her and you can feel her stiffening next to you.

"All you want to do is talk about things. Why can't we just ever leave them be?" She grumbles like a little child.

"Because if we don't talk about things they grow and fester inside us until we damage ourselves or hurt others in one giant outburst." At using the word fester you realize that what Luna said about the festering wound in your soul is true. There is something inside you that is festering, but you don't know why and it's all Bellatrix's fault. She's the one who leads you to act rashly, the one who worries you highly, the one who stays on your mind for a good chunk of the day. She's the one you want to help the most.

She lets out a sigh and you sit up at this, the urge to cry finally dissipating. "Let's just go home shall we?"

You don't need further prompting. You get the car moving and drive it back home, glad to finally be back. Even the mess in the house is far away from your mind for now. All you want to do is sleep. You're so physically and emotionally drained by this whole experience.

"I'm gonna go knock out," you tell her, dropping your poncho to the floor and stripping from your wet shoes, socks and pants in the hallway. You don't care if you're changing in front of her. You don't have the emotional strength to do so.

She doesn't say anything, just wordlessly moves to the kitchen. You figure she must be hungry and cooking something to eat. You would eat but sleep seems more important now. You trudge up the stairs and turn on the shower. It's hot and steam fills the bathroom. You wash your body thoroughly, enjoying the way stress just melts under the steady stream. You'd stay there forever if you could, but you can't. You finish with your shower after thirty minutes and wrap yourself up in one of your fluffiest towels. The thunder outside has subsided but the rain is still going strongly.

The bedroom has clothes falling out the closet and drawers overturned but the bed seems unscathed so you plop gratefully onto it and pull the sheets up. Within minutes you are blissfully asleep. Tomorrow, you promise yourself, you will talk to her and get this all straightened out.

 **A/N: Hermione is slowly edging closer to what her problem is. Fingers crossed that it finally gets through her thick skull. As for Bellatrix? Hmmm, who actually knows what her feelings are.**


	18. Chapter 18

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 18: Mad Dog, Bad Dog  
_

* * *

 _I had given up_  
 _I didn't know who to trust,_  
 _So I designed a shell_  
 _Kept me from Heaven and Hell,_  
 _And I had hit a low_  
 _Was all I let myself know_  
 _Yeah I had locked my heart_  
 _I was imprisoned by dark: Dressed in Black, Sia_

* * *

In the morning you see her and to say that the situation is awkward is an understatement. She won't look you in the eyes and her speech is clipped and curt. You think that you have fucked this up, that there is no way you can redeem yourself from this mistake. You don't know what to do to fix this; you have never been in a situation like this. Do you desire her? Is that why you kissed her that night?

You know if you did an analysis on yourself you would get an answer but you don't want to as you fear to do so. You just want to go back to how it was, but every time you look at her mouth you are reminded of the kiss and how _right_ it felt. What do you do now? You cannot go back from this. The event happened and all you can do is treat it maturely like an adult would. You try to bring the topic up with her, to apologize, but she brushes it aside and moves onto other topics.

"Bellatrix, you can't keep avoiding this," you bark at her during one of the therapy sessions, getting tired of her juvenile behavior.

"Avoiding what?" she blinks innocently.

"This topic. It's not any easier for me to cover, but I would appreciate it if you would let me explain what happened."

"Nothing happened," she shrugs violently and goes to looking at her nails. She's sitting on the living room couch, trying her best to remain nonchalant and ignorant of your presence.

You hold back the exasperated sigh that wants to come out your mouth. "Bellatrix, let me make things right. This is not helping, this behavior of yours, in fixing the situation."

"I don't see anything wrong with my behavior." She shrugs once more, using a tone of voice that denotes you're stupid for thinking this.

"Of course you don't," you mutter under your breath then speak up so she can hear. "I still want to talk to you about it. I never meant the kiss. You simply reminded me of the girl I was hooking up with. It doesn't mean anything so I really would wish that you could act naturally around me. It's making the whole proving I'm innocent thing really hard."

"Not my fault I'm acting weird. It's all you." Her third shrug of the day. If she doesn't stop shrugging you swear you will hit her.

"Yes I know. Now please forgive me for my unprofessional behavior and let's get back to work on your therapy sessions."

She doesn't look any happier at your apology but doesn't say anything more on the topic or for the rest of the day. She just up and storms off into the bedroom and stays there all day. You sigh and decide it's time to clean up some of the mess she made, starting with the living room and dining room. You don't even know how to breach the issue of her trashing your place without going over the whole kiss scene first, something she was reluctant to approach.

The next day you and Bellatrix have another uncomfortable discussion on the events, a discussion you prompt, as always. There is a lot of beating around the bush, a lot of tense moments, moments of anger, but in the end a consensus has finally, _finally_ , been reached; that neither of you would ever bring the event back up again. Neither of you had gained a concrete explanation of the other's actions. You didn't know why Bellatrix had acted so jealously towards Sasha and you still didn't know why you had kissed her simply because she had aggravated you. She was always aggravating you, so why had this time you retaliated by kissing her instead of punching her?

There wasn't going to be anymore progress in this direction (Bellatrix had taken your apology so you supposed she was was willing to move on) so you decided it would be better to focus on something else. On getting rid of her night terrors. "Bellatrix, are both your parents still alive?"

"Why?" she asked, an edge to her voice. She was busy filing her nails. You noticed they were no longer bitten down to the quick, but long and healthy looking. They were a sign of some sort of mental improvement, but also now a new weapon for her. No doubt they would hurt more if she turned them on you. You snickered mentally for a second as a silly concept came to mind. Bellatrix, polishing her new weapons, nails gleaming as brightly as a sword. You push it out of your head to get to a more serious issue.

"I know a way that we could help resolve your night terrors more quickly."

She raised a skeptical brow at this. "And what if I don't believe you? Or want the night terrors to go away?"

"Just hear me out on this," you say with a hint of pleading. With a heavy sigh, as if she is doing you the biggest favor in the world by listening, she turns her attention to you.

* * *

"I still can't believe you talked me into this," Bellatrix grumbles out, her arms crossed over her chest and foot tapping erratically against the floor. The two of you are standing outside your parked car, facing a giant wrought iron fence that is slowly rusting and becoming overtaken by crawling ivy. Beyond those gates lay the overgrown by weeds grounds of the familial Black Mansion, the dilapidated roof barely visible from here among the seven foot high grass.

"It's for your own good. I know facing the demons from our past can be...hard, but with the right guidance one can do it. And I will be there with you all the way." You smile reassuringly down at her. She lets out a groan- clearly not motivated or reassured at all.

"I still can't believe I thought this was a good idea." When Bellatrix had heard the idea, she had leapt at the opportunity right at the start. Eager for a chance to let out her pent up frustrations and repressions at her father in a last confrontation. But her enthusiasm had slowly bleed out, mile by mile as you drove to the old mansion from her childhood. And now it looked like she had gotten cold feet.

"Don't worry. I'm here by your side." You know the fear one can feel can be crippling at times but you figured her hatred for her father would have overridden it.

Bellatrix let's out a long shaky exhale, her face noticeably more pale than usual. "Yea, yea," she mutters from behind tight lips. "I suppose I have got to do it." She eyes the house with determination, rolls back her shoulders and takes a step forward before she nose dives into the cement.

She'd fainted.

* * *

"Are you feeling better now?" you ask gently, propping her up by the fence. Her face is pale and sweaty but she'd regained consciousness and you were rubbing circles on her back. You had no idea she'd faint. Was she really so scared? Perhaps it was best to go back? "We can do this another day," you offer and she shakes off your offer.

"I'm not a weakling, and I won't have you thinking one of me," she grunts out.

"I don't think you're one. Just because you're scared of something-"

"I'm not a weakling!" she repeats and gets up to her feet. She turns on her heel to face the gate again. "I'm stronger than that sorry bastard of a man. He should be the one scared of me, should be afraid to sleep for fear that I will come for him in the night-"

"Now you just sound like a cliched villain," you say, putting up your hands.

"-and should be scared that I will, you know, just hurt him..." Bellatrix has run out of steam and her face has gone pale again. "Oh god I don't think I can do it," she says in a horribly strangled voice.

"That's fine. No one is pushing you to do so-"

"I think I'm gonna be sick." As soon as she says that, she bends over and the contents of her lunch come up.

* * *

She takes the tissue you hand her to wipe her mouth with gratefully. The two of you are back to sitting by the fence, one of her arms thrown protectively over her knees and hugging them close to her chest. "I told you you didn't have to do it if you couldn't." You try to say this as non-I told you so vibey- as possible

"I was doing fine," she insists, her brows furrowed petulantly.

"Bellatrix, no, you weren't. This is the tenth time you've tried to go up. Each time something has happened that has prevented you from going. And just right now you tried to knock me out, steal my car keys, and drive away."

Bellatrix pulls the tissue from her mouth to scowl at you, her split lip still softly bleeding. You'd decked her there when she had turned on you. "It's not my fault. It's like the fear just overcomes my body and takes control of me. I really want to do it, but I can't."

"Then let's not do it today. Let's do it another day." You pull out a packed lunch you had made for the both of you. It was meant to be a snack for the park later but it didn't look like the two of you were making it to the park any time soon. Already two hours had passed in front of this fence. You hand her a juice box, figuring that's the only thing she can stomach right now. She's still too freaked out to even make a joke about how it's for little kids. She takes it and pops the straw in, sipping on it contemplatively. She's not looking at you, just at something in the distance. You pop open your own drink and gulp it down in one go.

The air is still, warm with oncoming spring. You've dressed in a loose blue and white patterned shirt that ties at the waist. Blue tight jeans adorn your legs. Bellatrix is still in all black, her hair swept off the side of one of her shoulders. A bird or two flies over your head as you sit there. Bellatrix is uncommonly still, her wild energy contained inside her, crushed by the weight of the fear she feels. You'd never think there would come a day when you would see this coming from her. She seemed the type who was never scared of anything. After all, she ran out into dangerous storms for fun!

"No."

"No what?" The silence had stretched on for so long that you had even forgotten you had spoken before.

"I want to do this today. If I don't then I never will." She holds the juice box in her hand and it looks a bit silly, seeing a grown woman drinking from a green carton with Goofy on it.

"But you're not prepared to face him. More time will do you good." Now that you've seen her reaction to just standing in front of he father's mansion, you feel like a horrible person for ever suggesting the idea.

"I said I want to go in." She's stubborn as ever, and always in the wrong moments.

A sigh. "And you promise you won't try to hurt me this time?" You thumb the bruise on your arm thoughtfully.

"Yes...within reason."

Still she makes no move to stand up and you stay where you are as well, not wanting to pressure her. She takes another sip of her juice. "What are you thinking about?" you ask her, wondering what is going on in her mind right now.

"I'm thinking about how I can get past my fear."

"And have you come up with anything?" You wonder if she can figure something out because you have no other ideas on how to help her in this situation. It's entirely up to her if she wants to do something.

"Yea. I think if I get angry enough then I can overcome it."

You frown but let her go on.

"You need to piss me off, doc."

"And how would I do that? Hit you?" You're reluctant to piss her off. It always takes so much effort to calm her back down, although it has been getting easier.

"No...I was thinking something else." At this she smirks and turns to look at you, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "Remember the last time I flipped out?"

"Yea, not too hard to do that, since you trashed my house. Which we still haven't entirely cleaned up, by the way," you remind her, a touch sharply as you're still very upset about what she did.

"I need you to piss me off to that extent again."

Your lips sour. No, no, you do not like where this is going. You're scared by her suggestion. Not because of what it is she wants you to do, but because it makes your stomach tingle in excitement that she is asking you to do it. And that reaction to her request is what makes you a hundred percent not want to actively complete it. "To make you that mad again? What if you get out of control? Hurt yourself, hurt me, or your father? Besides, I can't repeat my actions from two nights ago. It was unprofessional. I promised it wouldn't happen again."

Bellatrix just rolls her eyes as if your answer is betise. "Now is not the time to uphold morals. Just fucking do it."

You swallow deeply, a rejection welling up from deep within you. "Bellatrix-"

"Doctor," she bats her eyes playfully at you and leans closer to you, invading your personal bubble of space. "Do you not want to help me?"

"W-well, I do, but surely there is another way-"

"Frankly I can't think of another way. Don't tell me you're too chicken to do it? What, do you need some alcohol in your veins to give you bravery?"

You know you shouldn't rise to her insults and taunts but they work and you huff, blowing up a strand of your hair. "Remember you asked for it this time," you growl out, hoping to hide the nerves that played in your stomach. Your fingers were tingling and you swallowed anxiously. You lean your head closer to her, licking your lips nervously, eyes fixating on her lips. She watches you the whole time, the space between the two of you closing. You hope your lips aren't trembling and holding your breath, you peck her quickly on the mouth. Then you jerk back, your heart beating a mile a minute, and try to look as causal as possible. As if you hadn't just kissed Bellatrix, _again_.

Bellatrix's face is displeased and she leans back a little from you. "What was that?" she asks in a low tone.

"I did what you asked," you respond, feeling the urge to fiddle with your hands and to run up and bolt because surely your face is on fire and she is going to notice you blushing. Why did you do that? Why? Why? You can't believe you actually did that. The last kiss had been a mistake. And where did she get off with asking you to kiss her again in the first place?

"That couldn't even be called a kiss. The one you gave me last time, I want you to do that again so I can get mad."

"This is a stupid idea," you bluster out, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this situation. "It's not going to work. And we should be going home. We've already spent too much time-" your voice rises in pitch.

"Are you flustered?" Bellatrix leans closer to you, her eyes predatory and amused. "Is the little doc embarrassed? Has she never kissed properly?"

"I'm a good kisser!" you huff, defending your amorous skills. You cross your arms over your chest in emphasis.

"Hmm, or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's because the doctor truly does like me...and she gets all hot and bothered when I get too close to her..." Bellatrix slides herself over, so that the two of your thighs are touching. This action makes heat spread across your chest, a heat only amplified by her words.

"Fine, let's get this over with before you piss me off instead of me pissing you off," you say with an angry growl and decide fuck it. You run a hand through her dark locks, the hair that you've always longed to touch, so as to get a good grip on her and pull her face close. Your lips mesh together and you try to pour as much energy and emotion into this kiss as you had last time. Bellatrix's lips remain immobile as they did last time and it just feels like you're kissing a statue. But then she takes you by surprise. Her lips part and catch your bottom lip between them, biting down gently on them.

The sensation on your overly sensitive lips makes a small gasp come from your mouth and causes your stomach to clench in pleasure. Immediately this feeling registers as wrong, wrong, _super wrong,_ not to mention _forbidden_ and you pull back, stumbling to your feet from how quickly you move.

Your heart is racing fast and you try to hold back your gasping breaths. What the fuck was that feeling? What was going on? You shouldn't have felt this way when kissing her...but you did. Last time you could have blamed it on the alcohol but now...now what could you blame it on?

Bellatrix finds this amusing. A cackle escapes her lips. "Your face is beet red doctor. How funny! Was that kiss too much!" She jumps up to her feet, brushing the back of her pants to dispel any gravel from them.

You don't even know what to say to this. "I hope it worked, because I will not be repeating this any more." You settle on that at last, wiping the sensation of her mouth on yours away with the back of your hand.

Bellatrix's lips turn into an all knowing smirk. She wants to comment on the last part of the sentence but holds herself back. "It seems it didn't work. I guess to get angry I have to be taken by surprise. Nevertheless, you have lifted my mood. Seeing you so mortified does wonders for my soul."

You grit your teeth, upset that she tricked you once more. "You are incorrigible."

She tsks, playful and a bit flirty. "But you like me best that way." Then she is off, pushing towards the gates. You follow her, quietly stewing internally.

* * *

You follow the gravel path to the mansion. With each step you can see that Bellatrix is stiffening up again, that the fear is coming back. Her steps begin to falter and the proud jut of her head is lowering. You can't let her get discouraged again, especially not after she made you so embarrassed for her own entertainment. You grasp her hand in yours. It is cold and clammy and you give it a squeeze. She looks up at you at that and you give her a wide smile. She doesn't say anything, just focuses her gaze back on the destination in front of her, hand squeezing yours back.

The tall grass sways gently on both sides of you, and you can hear some animals rustling about inside them. You wonder how long it has been since someone has trimmed the yard. Did no one live here anymore? But Bellatrix had told you her parents were still alive. Your pondering is cut off when you get to the front steps. Waiting, with the door ajar, is an old butler.

"Mistress Lestrange," he greets, with a small half bow. "What a pleasure to see you again. How have the years treated you?"

"It's Mistress Black now," she sniffs at him. That reminds you that you still have to ask her about her recent divorce from her husband. Now is not a good time although the curiosity burns in you about it. "And the years have been alright. And before you ask about my sisters, Cissy is living the good life, trapped in her gilded cage, and I still don't talk to Dromeda, so I have no clue what she is up to."

A family tiff between sisters, hmm. You have briefly touched upon her middle sister but still you don't know the exact extent of their relationship.

"I see," the butler responds, letting the two women past him so they could enter the house. "And who is this young lady you have bought with you?" He shuts the door behind you and you are thrown into the dark. This house is dim and it smells musty and old. Thick worn carpet is what your feet sink into. Dusty paintings hang from the walls of the entrance hallway. They are all morbid, portraying dogs or war scenes on black backgrounds. None of the lights are on and all the window curtains are drawn, their thick purple velvet preventing any light from getting through. Why was this house so dark? Once again you wondered if her parents really still lived here in this neglected space.

"She's my therapist," Bellatrix admits and her hand tightens almost imperceptibly on yours.

"Ah, I see," The butler says turning to you. "How nice to know that you are helping those in need. What is your name?"

"Granger," you respond with as the man leads you down a hall into another hall into a living room. It's dark in here as well, the furniture dusty and couches covered in white sheets. "Tea perhaps? I just brewed a fresh batch."

"No, we'll pass. I'm not here for that or for the exchanging of pleasantries with you," Bellatrix says, almost brusquely. "We're here to see my father."

The old man's face gets a bit paler at this statement. "Your father is not feeling well, as of this moment. I think it would be best to wait-"

"I'm not waiting-"

"-or to come back on another day," the butler finishes.

"-I'm not doing that either," she continues. "We must see him today and that is final."

A hint of fear passes over the butler's face but it quickly disappears. "He will not be pleased to be disrupted."

"I don't give a fig if he's happy or not to see me. He _will see_ me." Bellatrix stamps her foot for good measure and the butler scurries away. She's acting tough for now but you wonder how long this facade will last. Already there are slight tremors going through her hand and you brush your thumb over her knuckles in order to soothe her as best you can without verbal assurances.

She doesn't look over at you this time. Instead, her gaze is on the assortment of swords and axes and shields her family has pinned to the walls behind glass as a form of decoration. A moment later there is a terrible yelling and shouting, accompanied by the apologizing of the butler. Bellatrix's back stiffens up at this and she sharply inhales, releasing your hand, and you know her father is coming.

He enters the room, hand on his ebony black cane. His clothes are immaculate, all black with white and gold accents, but his face is old. It sags in on itself and his mustache droops over his thin lips. He is shaking, but you can't tell if it's from age or from anger. "Bellatrix," he spits out, his words biting and cruel even in the sole moment you have met him. "The bane of my existence. What the devil brought you over here again? I told you I never wanted to see your disgusting face around here, ever!" He throws out his arm to emphasis the point. The butler has appeared behind him, his voice soft.

"Master, they only wish to speak to you-"

"Shut up! Leave us alone now!" The butler nods his head- you notice a bruise forming around his eye (Bellatrix was not lying when she said her father beat the staff)- and he goes off, throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

"And who is this bitch!" Bellatrix's father glares at you now and you straighten out your shoulders.

"I'm here to help her face you. To help amend things."

"Amend things?" he snorts nastily. "I'd never in hell or heaven amend things with her. She is a life ruiner! And you would do well to steer clear of her."

"She's wrong Cygnus," Bellatrix grounds out. Her voice is strong and clear but menacing. "I don't want to amend things. I've come here to let you know exactly how much I hate you. And I hate you so much that nothing in this world, no joy that I have ever felt, will ever overcome this one sole hatred that I have for you."

The man looks pleased if anything. "Good. Then I have done my job right."

You cannot believe the cruelty of this man. "How can you say that to your own daughter-" Whack! Something long and thin and hard strikes your right cheek and you double over, eyes shut against the pain. What just hit you? You come up, your hand on your cheek to stem the blood you can feel coming down.

Cygnus just lowers his cane. You didn't even see it move. Bellatrix is vibrating with anger next to you. "How dare you raise a cane to her face!"

"She is not of this family. She will not speak to me this way. And I now offer you a chance to leave this place before you really piss me off and I have to take matters into my own hands and punish both you and this whore you have brought with you!"

"She's not a whore! She's more decent and more of a human than you ever will be!"

This hurts the man, you can see it in the way his nostrils flare and his eyes dilute.

"You will not besmirch the family name and pure bloodline like that! Over some common whore no less. Who is she? Is she the reason why you divorced that wonderful man I chose for you to marry! Have you turned into a dyke!"

Bellatrix's hands are curled up in choler. "That man you chose was a joke! And our entire marriage a sham. I divorced him because I could. Because I was tired of living a farce. I'd rather be with a woman than with him."

His voice rises in volume at this. This clearly has hit something inside him; insulted him deeply."You are no daughter of mine! You have crossed the line with that statement. Take yourself and your whore out of here, right now!"

 _How rude, I am not a whore,_ you pout internally. You want to say something to protect your virtue but there is too much tension and heat between the two to even bring it up. It's getting dangerous in here and you wonder if you should pull Bellatrix back.

Bellatrix takes a step forward to him, then another, but Cygnus does not flinch back from the pure unadulterated anger in her gaze. It fills every inch and crevice of her body. "She is not a whore! And I am not going anywhere till I am done with you."

"You threaten me in my own house? I am the man of the family-"

"You stopped being the man long ago when you succumbed to this monster within you!"

A snort. "As if you can speak. You carry the same beast inside you. You act as if you are better but you damn well know how much its needle sharp claws hurt when it tries to claw it's way out of you. Either you suffer and hold it in, only to keep suffering when it fights you, or you let it go and live life as pain free as possible."

"You're a selfish old man. You'd preferably cause pain to everyone around you rather than bring pain upon yourself just so you can see smiles upon the faces of those you love and of those who are near to you." Bellatrix is breathing heavily now, desperate to get these words across to him. Cygnus looks more bored than anything else. "And that is why I'm different from you. I will continue to fight this monster inside of me that your poisoned blood created. Some days I may lose but other days I will win, I will succeed over this beast. And that is because I know if I do then the people I care about will be all the more happier for it."

Cygnus sneers at this. "And what people, what friends do you speak of because I don't recall you ever having anyone to give a flying fig about you!"

"I still have people who genuinely care for me. Who care more than you or mother ever did. Even a complete stranger, like Granger, cares for me."

Well, it finally took her this long to realize that yes, you do care for your patients. Glad to see she finally got the memo.

This brings a dark look to her father's eyes and he chuckles. "We'll see how much she cares for you after this." He pulls out a silver whistle from under his pressed white shirt and raises it to his lips. No sound comes from it, but it is enough to freeze Bellatrix. All the anger from before, all the hatred, dissolves into fear. You wonder why, and then you get your answer.

The snarling and braying of dogs sounds from somewhere down the hall and you cannot believe it. This man, no, this _monster_ , has released the hounds on his own daughter and on a complete stranger! Did he have no qualms about what the repercussions of these actions were? "You are going to go to jail and I'm going to sue the fuck out of you!" You hiss at him, coming up to grab Bellatrix by the shoulders and begin to shake her.

"If you're alive for that," are his ominous parting words and then he disappears into the shadows of the house, back to where he came from.

"Bellatrix, Bellatrix," you plead with the frightened woman. "We have to go. We have to move. How do we get out of this mansion?"

She snaps out of her stupor, her eyes focusing on you. "Quickly, follow me." She grabs you by the hand and pulls. The two of you run as if the hounds of hell are chasing after you, and in a way, they are. Your frantic footsteps are muffled by carpet.

"We won't make it to the door. We have to hide from them and wait until it is safe to leave." The scrabbling of nails on wood floors makes you look back and you wish you didn't. You can see the massive outline of a dog or two following the two of you. Their eyes almost glow red in the dark and their maws are slavering and opened wide. Those beasts are massive! The thought of a small Bellatrix being savaged by those things makes bile rise to your throat and your eyes prick with tears.

"In here," Bellatrix says and shoves you into a room. Not a moment after she slams the door closed the dogs hit it. The frame shakes with their combined weight and their agitated howls sound positively blood curling.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, staring at her fearful expression and the way she watches the door, as if it could break any moment. She doesn't register your question, no doubt replaying the events of her childhood. She looks young in this moment, and vulnerable. Your hand on her shoulder breaks her free once more. "There's only two dogs. The others are missing. The door," she sputters, her eyes opening wide. "Close the other door."

"Right," you nod your head, trying to not let her panic faze you. It wouldn't do good if both of you lost your head. The room you are in is a mix of a small library and a study. Again more weapons are hung to the walls- are they hung everywhere in the house?- did the father use them to torment the kids with? Questions that make you shudder. You walk around the desk to the other end of the room where another door is open. She said that there seemed to be dogs missing. But where could the others be? And why were these savage mutts living indoors? Hadn't they been outside when Bellatrix had recounted her past? Had the man fallen to such levels that he kept them inside, ready to torment his guests?

You're almost at the door, your hand outstretched for the knob, when you see it. It moved soundlessly, and appeared like a ghost, or a shadow. But there, in front of you, and now starting to growl is another one of the dogs. Your eyes open wide and your breath catches in your mouth. Then the dog lunges.

A scream leaves your throat as the dog latches onto your leg. It's teeth are hot lava that spreads miasma from your shin up to your thigh. You fall to the floor and the dog shakes you, jerking you around. You raise your one good foot and kick it in the face hard but it's grip never alleviates. "Get off you stupid mutt!" you cry out, kicking it harder.

"Hermione!" Bellatrix's shrill cry comes from somewhere behind you. You don't have time to look at her, you're too busy with the dog. It begins to drag you forwards and your hands come up to grab at the walls, at the floors, anywhere to get a hold. But your hands are sweaty from fear and your grip slips and slides.

The dog tightens his grip on your leg, shaking you, and you cry out in pain again, tears blooming from your eyes. You twist in it's grip onto your stomach in a bid to snatch at something heavy to bludgeon it with, but your hands only touch your own blood, which is smearing across the hardwood floor. "Bellatrix, give me a weapon to hit it with!" you order her but her hands are on her mouth and she just stands there paralyzed with fear.

 _Well, shit she's fucking useless!_

More snarls sound behind you and you turn back onto your back to see that two more dogs have joined the one that is dragging you. Their eyes are gleaming with joy of the hunt and you know without doubt that once you get within mouth distance of them, they will tear you to pieces. Panic hits you full throttle in the chest and you begin to kick with renewed vigor at the dogs face. He's almost pulled you out of the doorway where the rest of the beasts are waiting for you. "Bellatrix!" you shout her name over and over, hoping it will break her free of her stupor.

And just when you think you are a goner, something heavy and sharp lands on the dog's head. It cleaves it cleanly in half, blood and brains coming out. His grip on you slackens and then drops completely free as he rises to his feet, staggers and then drops dead a couple inches away. You prop yourself up on your elbows, shocked by what has just happened. The axe sticking out of the dogs head is huge and heavy, yet a small pale hand reaches and picks it up, heaving it over their shoulder easily.

You look up to see Bellatrix, face neutral, heavy axe slung over her shoulder like some sort of warrior of dark. "I told you to shut the door," she says, her voice even and strong. You want to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement as it is so inappropriately timed.

"You don't get to say that," is all you can think to respond with. She thinks she's all cool now with that battle axe.

The two awaiting dogs snarl out, wanting retribution for their fallen comrade, and pounce. You let out an undignified squeak and raise your hands to protect your face. You shouldn't need worry. Bellatrix's weapon aims true and with two wet thumps, the dogs heads roll off, their blood coating your shirt and hands and jeans. You lower your arms, the dead dog carcasses lying on their side an inch away from you.

Bellatrix is kicking them with her feet. "That's what you fucking get! You pieces of shit!" There is a mad smile on her face and her eyes are gleaming with sick satisfaction.

"Bellatrix..." you trail off on a hiss, as your leg starts throbbing anew. The adrenaline had held off some of the pain but now it comes full force and you groan out loud. This stops her kicking of the dogs and she turns to you. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice impossibly soft and gentle.

"We need to get out of here. I need to go to a hospital," you grunt out, hands reaching to cradle your hurt right leg. It only makes it worse so you let go and sit up, breathing heavily through your nose at the pain the action caused. You lean against the wall, and Bellatrix touches your shoulder gently. "Stay here. I'll go take care of the rest of the dogs and get you something to bandage that leg up with."

With that she stood up and strode over to the first door you had closed. She snapped open the lock and cracked the door open, jumping a safe distance away. Immediately the two dogs heads came in through the open door, followed by the rest of their massive bodies. You want to tell her to be careful but you don't have the strength in you to scream right now. You can't even crane your head to watch, because doing so would require you to move your whole body and it would be too much pain to do so. So you only listen to the swish and chop and the dying whimper of the dogs as they are readily incapacitated.

Done, she closes the door once more and then returns to you. "How are you doing?" she asks. Her black clothes are splattered with blood, and more crimson runs down her arms and on the blades of the weapon.

"Fine," you groan out. "Just get me out of here."

She nods her head and then picks up a dogs head, looking at it with consideration. "I'll be back. I just have something to show father." Then she leaves and shuts the door behind her with a warning for you not to open it up unless it was her. You nod, too tired to disagree and sit and wait, trying to ignore the pain in your leg and the way the blood pooled out of the lacerations. You try to think about some TV shows you wanted to watch or some new book to be read. The distractions barely worked to stave off the brightest edges of the pain.

A loud scream, one that sounded as if someone's heart was being wretched free, ripped through the confines of the house. You tensed, wondering if it was Bellatrix's, but no, the cry was too deep. Too masculine. Whose could it be? A moment later someone knocked on the door.

"It's me."

You reached out a hand to turn the knob and unlock the lock so she could enter. She came in, a small grin on her lips that she tried to hide from you but failed. "What just happened?" you ask as she closes the door behind her.

"That was my father," she answers as she crouches down next to your hurt leg her weapon discarded. She's carrying some supplies with her. "I went up to him, showed him the decapitated head of his favorite dog, spat on him for good measure as I warned him what would happen if he disrespected you or me again. That cry of anguish was him mourning over his stupid dogs." Her eyes are gleaming in satisfaction and pride. "I finally stood up to him properly. Hurt him like he hurt me."

"I'm proud of you for doing that," you murmur to her. "And I don't even care that you killed those dogs. Normally I'd be scolding you for doing something so reckless...but thank you." In your thanks is the unspoken implications of you being attacked by them. She understands and doesn't say more on it. Pulling out the scissors she brought with her she cuts away the material of your jeans and you try not to let out a hiss of disappointment. You wore some of your favorite clothes today. There was no way you were going to get all the blood stains out of them. It was to the trash with them.

"Am I hurting you?" she asks, taking your hiss for one of pain.

You shake your head no. "I was just lamenting about my clothes and how they are forever ruined."

She gives a quick glance up and down your body to note this. "It was a cute outfit," she concludes before she settles back to work. She pushes the cut material aside and then hands you a bottle of pain pills. "Swallow some of these."

You don't need to be told twice and gulp down two greedily. The cold sting of antiseptic makes you hiss out loud, in pain this time, and she glances up at you concerned. "Should I be gentler?"

"No, it's fine. It's going to hurt either way," you tell her and make a fist to help with the pain. The way she's being so overly...concerned and gentle with you right now is so out of character for her. Not even when she apologized that day you had run ragged searching for her and she had been nearby the whole time, had her words been so soft, had sounded like she meant them. Is she feeling guilty about what happened and is trying to make it up to you?

She nods her head at your answer and works in silence. The alcohol washes the bacteria and blood away and then she plasters on band aids and wraps up the leg in cloth. Already the pain medication is working because the pain in your leg is a dull throb. To fill up the silence of her working, you decide to crack a joke. "Not going to lick away the blood this time?" You jiggle your leg a little at this.

She looks up, a bit confused at this.

"You told me you found blood precious, and you know, the rest..." you trail off awkwardly when you see the joke has fallen flat, waving your hand in the air to dismiss this topic and move on.

Dawning falls on her face as your words sink in. "I'm afraid my tongue can _only_ cover so much _space_ ," she says, a touch flirty as she sets your leg down gently. "But I can do something about the wound on your face." Right, you had forgotten that the man had struck you with his cane there. It seemed inconsequential compared to your leg and the horror of the dogs.

Her hand comes up softly to capture your non hurt cheek before her lips slowly descend to your cut cheek where the bleeding has already stopped. She kisses a pattern down from the cheekbone to the corner of your mouth before she pauses there, her lips uncertain and hovering close to your skin. Her scent is all around you and you drink it in, enjoying the warmth of her presence, her usually cold blood hot because of the adrenaline fused blood pumping through her veins. You would let yourself stay like this for longer if not the need to leave this place. You had to get to a hospital to fix the rest of your leg. No matter how splendid a job Bellatrix did you would probably need stitches. Also, there was no telling what her pissed off father would do if he caught you both still here. And there was no way you could run like this.

"Bellatrix?" you ask, your voice a whisper because of her close proximity. She was paused in her actions, debating something internally with her self. Her thumb runs circles on your cheek, sending tingles throughout your face. You look at her and her eyes are closed, and then she slowly pulls away, a look of disappointment on her face. But disappointment at what? Herself? A thought strikes you sharply. Did she want to kiss you?

 _No,_ you scold yourself. _Now is not the time to be thinking such ridiculous things._ Where had such a silly thought even come from? _It's probably all because of the blood loss._

She leans back on the balls of her feet and holds out her hands to you. Their covered in your blood right now but you can't even feel grossed out about it. "Can you hop on your other leg? I can help you up but I can't carry you."

"I should be fine. They only got one leg thankfully." You let her pull you up and her arms go around your shoulders, as you use her as a crutch to slowly hop towards the door. You expect someone to be outside, ready to bar your way, but no one is and as you painfully make your way out the house, to the gates and to the car, you can't help but think how surreal this whole experience just was.

* * *

When you come back from the hospital the first thing you want to do is take a shower. You feel sweaty and bloody and gross. But the painkillers they gave you are really strong and you can barely keep your eyelids from fluttering shut even as Bellatrix maneuvers you out of the taxi and into the house. The hospital gave you stitches, just as you thought they would, and told you to stay off your leg for a while. Since it was your right leg it means you won't be driving your car for a week, meaning you most certainly will not be able to go to work.

Oh well. It's too late for regrets now. What's done is done.

Bellatrix helps you onto the couch, as it's much easier to get you there rather than help you upstairs. She's careful to make sure your leg, bandaged in white gauze, does not bump anything or is jolted too harshly. You flop down onto the blankets gratefully and realize you will not be taking that shower today. Bellatrix flops down next to you, prompting your halfway lidded eyes to open. What is she doing?

"I just...I want to tell you that I am grateful for all you did for me today doc," she says, smiling ruefully as she turns inwards to you. Your body shifts to face her without you even thinking about it. "I...you...you helped me stand up to my fears. And when I saw those dogs attacking you, coming to attack me again, I freaked out. But because you were there it helped me...helped me to overcome this fear I had. And it was so liberating to cut off those dogs heads. It finally...well I feel like it freed me from my father's grip on me. I'm no longer scared of his dogs, I am no longer scared of him."

It seems you have effectively cured her fear of the dogs; hidden under her prickly exterior she cared for you and that had been enough to make her snap out of her stupor, unable to let you be victim to a fate similar to hers. So she had gone on the offensive and killed the literal beasts from her nightmares.

You smile up at her. "That is what I'm here to do," you tell her, your hand absentmindedly coming up to play with that one curl that is always falling into her face. The pills are lowering your inhibition levels and you would never think to do this for fear she would yell at you or smack you away. But she doesn't do either. Just lets you do as you please. "But I don't want you to call me doc anymore."

"And why not?" is her confused response.

"Back then, back when our lives were in danger, you called me by my first name. And it was nice." You feel a warmth in your chest at this recollection. In the hospital you had time to think the events over and realized that Bellatrix had called you by your first name, and that it was the first time she ever did. You wanted her to call you by your first name again. And again and again. "I want you to call me Hermione from now on. We are way past formalities."

There is silence from her end and through your slowly lowering lids you can tell she is mulling this over. "Fine," she says at last, huffing out her breath. Her hand trails up to your head and tangles softly in your curls, mimicking your motions. "That can be the way I eternally show you gratitude for what you have done for me today."

You nod your head in response to that, letting your hand drop away from her face. Your eyes drop shut and you are ready to give up the battle for wakefulness. But just before you drop into the dark, you feel a soft pressure on your lips before it slips away along with the hand in your hair.

And that is the day the infuriating game the two of you tangled with finally comes to an end, not that either of you noticed, because the thing that broke the game was larger and deeper than either of you realized.

 **A/N: So this chapter just went through so many mood swings. I think this was one of my favorite chapters to write just because it's such an important point between the two. Hermione's more of less solved one of Bella's issues. Now she just has to solve the rest.  
**

 **On a side note, I will be going on a mini hiatus with this series so that I can plan out what to do with the rest of it. It should only be a month but I'll keep my profile updated with more current information about the status as it goes.**


	19. Chapter 19

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 19: Wet and Wild_

* * *

 _You're taking my heart, by storm_ _  
_ _I'm lost in your love, lost in your love_ _  
_ _I can't hold back anymore_ _  
_ _I'm lost in your love, lost in your love_

 _Ruelle Storm_

* * *

A week without going to work was proving more boring than you would have expected. You were always used to moving around and doing something, but this constant sitting around so as not to strain your leg was pushing it. After all, you had never known one could get tired from simply resting all the time. Even books, so beloved to you, had lost their sparkle. It was simply too much work to read words on a page.

If it was up to you, you would have been walking already, but Bellatrix wouldn't let you do that. She was worse than a mother. She kept a constant vigilance over you, making sure that you never strayed too far from the couch that was now your prison. She also kept feeding you. Even if you weren't hungry she would force you to eat, stating that it was important for those who were ill to eat a lot in order to make a swift recovery.

The confinement to the couch wasn't the worst. It was the showering that was.

If she hadn't understood the concept of privacy before, now it was even worse. She insisted on helping you wash up. Yes, that's right. She wanted you to wash up, with _her_ help. It was a ludicrous concept.

"Bellatrix, I am perfectly fine!" You had shouted out at her, beet red in the face and body hidden behind the shower curtain as she came stomping in.

"You're ill. You can't shower well by yourself. You need someone to help you!" she declared, as if this made any sense at all.

"Bellatrix, it's only my leg. I assure you both my hands are in perfectly working order," you had replied, voice high in pitch as she tugged the curtain away from your body only for you to tug it back, your grip white knuckled on it, afraid she would see your naked body.

"Can't you see I'm trying to be useful to you! I feel bad about what happened so let me make it up at least in the only way I am capable of, and that is in helping you around the house." Of course she had gone and said that and it made you feel guilty to even think of denying her now. So with a heavy sigh, you had resigned to her whims and subjugations. Not without rules of course.

"You are only to help me wash my hair and my back. The rest I can do myself," you had told her. It wasn't that you didn't have a nice body. It was just weird to have someone else see it, much less that someone who so happened to be a patient of yours. Groaning to yourself as to how you had ever gotten into such a situation, you let her wash your hair and scrub your back while you took care of the rest. And sometimes when her hands strayed too much to the front you'd remind her sharply to keep her hands where they belonged. This was only met with a chuckle and then her hands would stray too far again. Honestly, it felt like she was playing around with you by doing this on purpose, and this was definitely less helpful than if you had showered by yourself.

The only good part of this whole week off was that you and Sasha were able to reconcile over the phone. She admitted to be being a jealous drunk and that she had overreacted and was sorry. And you had accepted her apology, knowing she would come to her senses eventually. She wanted to meet up with you again, to help take care of you at home as you had told her the story of what happened with the dogs, but you swiftly declined her as the house was still partly a mess due to Bellatrix's tantrum all that time ago. So the meet up would have to wait.

Finally, after the week was up, Bellatrix decided to let you outside the house. Only of course the weather was horrid and there was no way normally you wanted to go out in a spring storm. Bellatrix was practically salivating when she looked out the window, the urge to revile in the wild weather coursing through her veins and making her shake with excitement. While this wasn't your ideal weather, you were tired of sitting at home and frankly you were interested in seeing her outside in such weather.

She was sitting in a chair by the window, having drawn it close so that her head could stick out of the open window. She was getting water on your floor, but you don't care right now. "Let's go," you say to her, drawing her attention indoors and to you.

"What?" It seems she thinks she hasn't heard you correctly. Her hair and face are wet, soaked completely, but it doesn't bother her.

"I said, let's go. Outside," you tip your head in the direction of the window.

"You sure?" she asks. "After all it's barely been the end of the week, you shouldn't be out running in a storm-"

"Bellatrix, I'll be fine. Besides if I don't leave I will go stir crazy and I'm sure a bit of running around will take that out of me, plus help stretch my legs."

She looks to be debating internally, but her wants win over what is a responsible and mature thing to do (like you counted it would) and she jumps up and runs to get a set of ponchos for the two of you. Within minutes the two of you are outside, strolling in the rain to a park. She's walking briskly in front of you, humming a tune, but never too far ahead that you will get left behind. She makes sure to step in the biggest puddles and has left the hood of the poncho down so the rain can slap her face and drench her hair. You aren't as keen to have wet hair and keep your poncho hood on.

Outside the world looks to be drowning in water and you are pretty sure that only the two of you are out in this world. It gives it sort of an end of the world vibe that you can't help but giggle at. Your leg hurts a little but it's good to work the muscles. Already the wound is healing nicely and you are certain you will be able to go back to work in two days time. You can barely wait to do so. You are eager to see your patients.

The two of you turn on the corner and find yourself in a park. Normally the flora here are nice but right now they are flattened under the rain. Bellatrix let's out a wild whoop of glee and takes off, going to jump into a huge puddle of accumulated water right in the middle of a set of playsets. She kicks at it, some of the water coming up to splash you. "Hey!" you cry out as you put your hands up and block the water aimed at your face.

"It's time to get wet! Don't tell me you can't handle a little bit of splashing?" There is a hint of mocking in her voice and you lower your hands to shoot her a grin. "I never said I couldn't," is your battle cry as you charge towards the puddle and begin kicking the water at her. The both of your giggles and laughter fill the air. You feel like a five year old kid now and you must certainly look like one given your behavior but you don't care right now. You are having way too much fun. An exorbitant amount of it.

After the brief puddle war which Bellatrix won, she then goes off and does her own thing, kind of just standing there in the rain with her hands raised out to her sides and her eyes closed and face tilted up. She could be a statue for all intents and purposes right now.

"You really do love nature, huh," you comment.

"It's so primal and simple yet dauntingly beautiful and relaxing," is her answer and you watch her stand in the rain until finally she opens back up her eyes.

"And what do you love, Hermione?" The way she says your name makes your heart squeeze tightly in your chest, and you realize something, something you should have noted from the start. The way her eyes are alive with excitement, the way her lips are curved in her merriment, and dark, dark locks that are stuck to her slightly flushed skin that you want to brush away, are all beautiful. The way she makes you so angry unlike anyone else, the way she has captured your interest unlike anyone else and the way you let yourself get swept up in her schemes and hobbies and her huge personality, are all unlike how you've ever felt with anyone before.

And it's in this moment, on a soggy Sunday evening, that you realize the truth that was evading you, the idea Luna was trying to get at. And it was love.

You love Bellatrix Black.

Your eyes widen at this, and you swallow deeply. Your hands come up to your mouth and you can feel tears press at the backs of your eyes. Oh god this is so wrong. So wrong on so many levels. You're in love with a patient. _Your_ patient. When and how had this happened? Lost in the turmoil of your inner mind you don't notice that Bellatrix is still waiting for your answer to her question. "Hermione, are you okay? Did I break your brain by posing a question that's too hard for you?" she teases, walking up to you and peering with a smirk at your face.

You can feel your face heating up under your hands at her close proximity. And damn it, the way she says your name just makes you want to jump in joy. "Uh, no," you answer, clearing your voice when it comes out a bit squeaky. She is about to say something to that when her gaze goes past your head and turns dark. "Quick, come with me," she hisses and grabs your hand. "And don't look back."

Of course as soon as she orders that you want to look back but you don't. "Why, what's going on?"

"It's my sister."

"Narcissa?" you gasp. "But what is she doing out in this weather?"

"Looking for me. She knows I love weather like this so she probably figured that I would be out in it. And she's not wrong."

Shit. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You really do not want to get caught out in the rain with Bellatrix by her sister. This could lead to a whole lot of problems. "In here," Bellatrix instructs, leading the two of you through some low hanging trees. A branch scratches your cheek but you ignore the pain as the two of you duck down and crawl into a red playhouse and wait presumably for Narcissa to vacate the vicinity before the two of you can leave.

The two of you sit cramped under the little playground house meant for humans half your age and a third your size. The sandy ground shifts and sticks to your wet clothes. Rain patters over the red hard shell. Here you will be safe from Narcissa's searching. Hopefully.

"Do you think she saw us?" you ask, your left shoulder brushing up against Bellatrix's right. Your legs are folded up against your chest your hands on your knees. She's in the same position and the back of her palm brushes on yours as she settles in more comfortably. There is entirely too little space in here and when you turn around to look at her as she answers, your nose brushes against her nose. You almost jerk back in surprise but stop yourself, her black eyes catching yours. The two of you are so close. Given your pivotal revelation today you finally understand why this proximity is causing your stomach to do weird things.

"I think we should be fine here," she responds, looking calmly at you despite the closeness of you two, her breath washing over your lips which are suddenly too sensitive. Is she not aware of what she does to you? Has she no sense to move her face away? You want to break this intimate space up but you don't want to be the first to do it, loathe to give up the opportunity to share air with her. _Move you idiot,_ you scold yourself. _So what if you found out you like her, that doesn't mean you should pursue it. She's here for therapy; she is still a patient, albeit not an officially registered one anymore._

Still your body doesn't move, and it turns to absolute stone when her eyes dip to your cheek. "Looks like you got a scratch there. Honestly how did you even get it? It's not like we were jumping off of cliffs this time." There is light amusement in her tone but also a hint of softness and then she gently leans forward and presses a slight kiss to your hastily reddening cheek. "There, it should heal better now."

You can't believe she just did that. Her lips are so soft and kind. Your eyes flutter shut at the touch; you can't help it. You lean more into it but it's already disappearing. You open your eyes at the lack of warmth. She's pulling away and there is humor on her face.

"Did the doc like that, hmm?"

You don't respond to that, the patter of rain filling the space where your answer should be. Bellatrix continues to ask on. "Does the little doc like my kisses?" Her eyes dip to your lips and her own go up in a smirk. She seems to read something on your face, some emotion you are doing a bad job of hiding. After all, she could always read you so well. Then without warning she leans forward once more. Your heart jack hammers in your chest at her action and your eyes shut.

This time the kiss is on your lips. And it's not something short. It's slow, like a smoldering flame. She makes sure to draw it out, your lips eagerly and obediently following the path her's make. She kisses you long and hard and then gives you a second to draw breath before she goes back to it. You feel hot, the air in here is stifling and your chest swells with emotion, with this heat. You can't believe it. You're kissing her. Again. You really shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't, you shouldn't, but you really don't want to tear away.

Her lips glide over yours and you let out a satisfied sigh. The sound of rain falling drops away and all you can hear is the sound of the two of you kissing, the act filling all your senses to the brim with some super charged feeling. Eventually Bellatrix slows down to a point that your mouths come apart for more and more than a couple seconds at a time until the kisses become softer and softer, tapering off. At this she looks back up at you, her lips puffy from kissing you. Her black eyes are blacker than before if possible. You shift your body so that it faces her more, a hard feat in this tiny space. Your knees knock into hers.

You want to kiss her more, her sensual kisses having drawn heat down to between your legs, a pleasant sensation that leaves you tingling for more stimulation. This time it is you who leans forward to capture her lips. There are no thoughts of guilt running in your head now, only the primal urge to kiss and kiss.

This time the kiss is hungry. Heated. Your mouths battle. You want to draw a noise out of her, want to make her squirm. You pull her bottom lip between your own and suck, the resounding growl that comes from her mouth spiking sharply between your legs. So sharply that you almost cry out from how pleasurable it was, the feeling catching you off guard.

She responds in kind to your move by dipping her head down and attacking the spot under your jaw with her mouth. Your hands instinctively dig through her wet locks, and hold her there. Her mouth is hot, like a branding iron and you crane your neck back so she has better access to it, shivers crawling up and down your spine at the sensations. When she finishes she pulls back up and the two of you are left staring at each other, foreheads pressed together.

"So it looks like the little doc _fucking_ loves kissing me," Bellatrix says, a bit breathlessly. Your throat is too tight with desire for you to speak up. _Where do we go from here? What is the next step? Step out into the rain and forget this happened?_ You don't know.

You let out a disappointed sigh in yourself for ever letting the situation escalate to such a complexity and close your eyes, your hands still holding onto Bellatrix's locks. You cannot be in love with her.

It's wrong.

But you are.

And it feels so right.

* * *

The both of you wait a couple minutes more before you venture out of the playhouse. The rain has eased up and the park is empty save for the two of you. "The coast is clear," Bellatrix says. Her direct gaze on you makes you flush and you turn your head aside, pulling down the hood of your jacket more. "Then let's go home," you say and let her lead the way.

Back in the house the two of you peel off your soggy clothes and head separately for the showers. Under the hot steam of the water you contemplate and muss and bemoan your current situation. You can't believe you let this situation escalate to such a point. When did you even become captivated by her? Was it that first session? Or was it when she first starting living with you? The more you think about it the more you feel despair tug in your chest. You need to stop this, whatever it is that is between the two of you, from blooming any further. It's the adult and professional thing to do. This means you will have to talk to her. That will most certainly not go well. You know just how Bellatrix gets when feelings are a topic of discussion. But you don't want to put it off because it will only get worse with time.

You come out of the shower, dressed in loose t-shirt and short shorts. The wrapping on your leg has been changed as well. You find Bellatrix sitting at the table, watching TV. Her hair is still damp from the shower. "Bellatrix," you speak her name, your voice almost catching in your throat. You are nervous to have this talk.

She turns to you, arching a brow. Her arms are crossed over her chest. You don't let her direct look faze you. "We need to talk."

"Okay..." she drawls. "Talk." A quick shrug of her shoulders.

"This is about...us. And what we've been doing recently," you wet your lips, trying to solider on although you can feel heat creeping up the back of your neck caused by your discomfort. "We need to stop. We can't go any further than we already have."

Her brows furrow. "And why? What's so wrong with it?"

"Because you're my patient and I'm your therapist. It's not okay for the two of us to engage in such things," you explain, hoping you will not piss her off with this discussion.

She gets up at this, approaching you and you back up until your back is against the wall. Only then does she stop pressing forwards. "I don't see anything wrong with this. In fact I kind of like where we were going. I've...I've never liked a girl before and I want to explore it, explore this feeling more." Her eyes are focused on the goofy graphic letters of your tee as her hands come up to play with the seams on the shoulders. "So I'm not going to give up on this, just because you think it's wrong. And what about you, Hermione? Do you like me?" At this she swivels her eyes up, leaning close, too close to you. Her lips are but an inch away. You can't answer her, your heart is pounding too loudly in your chest. But the answering blush on your cheeks is more than enough for her and she smirks kindly, before her lips are on yours. She knows already that you are in some degree into her, so there is no doubt that you will accept this kiss. You melt into her touch as her hands come up to encircle your neck and pull your head down so it is more accessible to her. Your own hands have a mind of their own as they settle on her hips.

This kiss is sweet and simple, to the point. It's over before you know. "And I think that concludes any and all discussion we need on this topic." Bellatrix laughs, bopping you on the nose as she steps away. "And no matter what you do now, you can't deny your attraction to me." Your face flushes as you realize that she is right. No longer can you come up with the argument that you don't like her because you keep accepting these kisses of hers.

"Bellatrix, you are incorrigible," you mutter out.

"Just how you like your women," she teases, a grin so wide it could split her face.

* * *

"Ugh, I can't believe it," you grunt out as you pop the thermometer out of your mouth. You have a fever. No doubt due to running around in the rain with Bellatrix yesterday. "I should have never gone out into that storm." You groan as you bury your face in your pillows in shame at yourself and the stupid decision you made.

"No one told you to, you have no one to blame but yourself for this," is Bellatrix's smug reply. She's coming over with a bowl of soup for you to eat. You gratefully accept it and pull the blankets up to your chin. You're situated on the couch right now, sitting up so you can watch TV better. There's not much else your body wants to do, as it aches and shivers all over.

"How come you're not sick?" You can't keep out the petulant whine as you ask this.

"I live and breathe for such things. So it only makes sense that my body has built up an immunity to it steadily over the years."

"No need to be so smug about it," you shoot back at her as she sits down next to you.

"I'm not," she sings, giving you a cheeky grin. "What? Do you not like me taking care of you? Does itty bitty baby Hwermione not like nurse Bellatrix?"

"Ugh, don't say that. Don't call yourself a nurse. It sounds weird," you say, raising a spoonful of soup up to your mouth. It's chicken. Your favorite.

She only hums gleefully in response. Silence stretches out between the two of you as you watch TV. Well, more correctly, you watch TV. Bellatrix is watching you, and you are doing your best to concentrate on the TV and ignore her. It's kind of hard to do so, when her eyes bore into yours like a hot branding iron. Eventually you can't stand it anymore and turn an irritated glare on her. "What? Do you have something to say? If so, say it."

"Oh, it's nothing," she says lightly, sounding like there very well damn is something. At this she turns to face the TV and now it is you who is staring at her with all the force of a hot branding iron. Curiosity eats up at you. "Don't just stay mum about it. Tell me. Is there something wrong with my face? Did I do something weird today? What?" you ask, growing more and more impatient with each question.

"It's nothing," she waves a hand flippantly, still not looking at you.

"Bellatrix," you growl out, going against the better judgment that tells you to drop this issue. You damn well know if she doesn't want to say something it will take you weeks to pry it out of her. That is why you are doubly surprised when she does answer your question.

"You just looked cute. So I couldn't help from looking at you."

This catches you so badly off guard that you nearly choke on your own saliva. "That's-that's sneaky of you," you grit out after you recover from your brief choking spell. Your cheeks are flushed red. She merely chuckles to herself and the two of you go back to watching TV. And for the rest of the night, when it's time to go to bed, all you can do is replay her saying that phrase over and over again in your head, as you press your flushed face into the pillow and try not to squeal like a teenaged girl with a bad, bad, crush.


	20. Chapter 20

Portrait of a Tragic Woman

 _Session 20: Poisoned with Love_

* * *

 _"_ _This is not fair I am beyond repair cus of you/Can't find my head so I've fallen instead over you/Blood on my sleeve I give more than you need yes I do/Frightened you'll creep so I cry in my sleep yes I do/Oh I'm poisoned with love, love/But I can't get enough, enough/So I keep walking on broken glass for you/I'll keep walking on broken glass for you"_

 _Poisoned with Love- Neon Hitch_

* * *

Going back to work after being gone for so long is weird. But you're happy to be there. You'll finally get to be away from Bellatrix and the havoc she is doing to your emotions and rationale. Ever since she's decided to pursue you, she's been spending more time around you, pressing up as close to you as possible on the couch, joining you whenever you paint or are reading a book. She also says things. Things that are _so_ sweet you don't dare admit aloud that make you gush inside. Instead, you grunt at her attempts to compliment you and try to move on.

But does she really like you? It's hard to say. She gave no indication of having liked-wait a second. Maybe she did like you before you just never noticed it. All those weeks ago, when you first hooked up with Sasha and had hickeys on your neck Bellatrix had gotten really upset and not talked to you for a while. And then she was always so nosy when it came to matters of you hanging out with Sasha. Wow, how could you have not noticed this before. It was obvious. And then you were completely obvious too. After all, dating Sasha? The girl was practically a carbon copy of Bellatrix looks wise. Did that mean you had unconsciously been desiring your patient all along but hadn't known. Hadn't known until your own patient put two and two together for you? Gosh, how stupid had you looked?

Shaking your head in amusement at your behavior, you open the door to the office. It's exactly the way you've left it, as if it was waiting for you. You settle behind the desk and take out your files. Your first patient today is Luna. You wonder how she was holding up all this time without you to see her.

Half an hour later she strides into the office, balloons tied to her wrists. They are blues, and reds, and greens, all in the shapes of ovals. Her outfits matches the colors, a white tee seemingly splattered with red, blue and green paint. Her head band is white upon her hair, with two balls attached to it by springs. Her pants are black and she is wearing shoes that lace up to her knees.

"Luna, how have you been?" you ask her, rising up from your chair to sit in the therapy one. She smiles at you, taking a bow before she sits down in the blue chair in front of you. "Just wonderfully. And how about you?"

"I'm doing better," you respond, straightening out your coat lapels.

"I'm taking it that you have finally figured out what it was I was talking about," she says, humming. "I had a feeling you would, given your long absence, so I came prepared with these." She reaches for one of the balloons tied around her wrist.

"You brought these balloons for me?" you ask, feeling touched by your patient's actions.

"Yes, I did. But I also brought some to hand out to kids that I see. To make their day better," she answers breezily. "Let's see...I think red is nice." She unties that one and hands it to you. "Red symbolizes passion, and affection, and most commonly, love."

You don't say anything in response to that. You don't want to admit to anyone the depth of your feelings for Bellatrix. Especially not to another patient. You accept the balloon. She claps her hands at the sight of you holding it. "Now that you have accepted it..." she stands up at this and pulls a bobby pin out of her hair. Using it she pops the balloon and the loud noise of it erupting startles you a bit.

"Luna, why did you do that for?" You ask, scowling down at the mess of plastic on your floor.

She sits back down, a smile on her lips as she tucks the bobby pin back in her hair. "It's symbolism doctor, I'm sure you would understand as much."

You do understand. But it's a symbolism you do not much like.

* * *

After the day is over you go straight to your usual bar. You haven't been there in a while and you decide that you need to drink a bit. Your dreams have lately been filled with dogs chewing your flesh to bits, and while they are not night terrors per-say, sometimes a bit of liquid courage can help dampen the affects of them during the night time. Also it has been a while since you've seen Ginny and the others and you want to see what they have been up to.

"Hermione!" Ginny greets as soon as you walk in through the door. The place is near empty like always. The TV is on in the background, showing some sports game or another. The few patrons who are here ignore it in favor for their drinks or for conversation with one another. You take the spot by the bar. "Ginny, it's nice to see you. It's been a while."

"I'd say," she smiles as she pours you a shot of your favorite. You raise it, arch an eyebrow in toast and then swallow it down. "Been busy with life? No time to visit a friend?"

"Just a lot of stuff has been going on," you answer, putting down the glass. "I've been working hard on this one patient's case, the one I told you about all that time ago."

"I remember her, the black haired woman who helped instigate a fight in the bar," Ginny's lips thin a bit at this and she turns to refill your glass.

"Yea, that's her," a wry grin on your face you swallow down the drink. "She's getting better. In fact a lot of progress has been made."

"And here you were worried that you wouldn't be able to change a damn thing. You're not the best psychologist for nothing, you know."

You flush a little at this praise. "I'm not the _best_ best. There are others better than me. I only hope to aspire to their level."

"And so how is she now? Still fighting people?"

"She's feisty, alright. But she's toned it down. I've helped her to rationalize her angers, got her to open up about her past. There's still more work to be done, but we'll get there sooner or later. The most important part is that she wants to try. Which is amazing." You can't help but smile at this.

"You look happy," Ginny comments and this shuts down your smile. "Just glad my work is paying off," you respond and hope Ginny can't tell how you truly feel about your patient. You don't need more people knowing. It'd be problematic.

Ginny gives a short laugh. "If I ever get crazy in the head I hope my therapist is as dedicated as you are to your job. I'm glad that your work paid off though."

"Yea, me too. That's why I'm here to celebrate it."

The rest of the night is spent drinking and chatting casually about life and other things. The hours tick by and soon it is eight in the afternoon. "I suppose I better get to bed," you grunt out, getting off the stool and cracking your back pleasantly.

"Don't leave just yet," Ginny pouts. "I was thinking of heading downtown. My shift ends in about half an hour and I really need a girl that can help me pick out some cute outfits for this frat party this week."

"Well, I suppose I could go. It's not like I have work to do at home waiting for me." Additionally you are a bit reluctant to head home. You want to see Bellatrix but you know how bad that will be for you. Despite what Bellatrix wants to do, most of it seeming to want to pursue this development between the two of you, you are going to be the responsible adult and stop it. Your heart clenches painfully at the thought of nipping your budding feelings in the butt but what else can you do?

"Also, Ron's coming along. Try not to look too disappointed," Ginny wrinkles her nose up at this, causing you to laugh. "It's fine I don't mind your brother coming along. I haven't talked to him in a while either. So it'd be nice to see him."

Ginny nods her head. "Then it's settled. We're out for a trip!" She lets out a loud whoop before she gets drawn away to serve some drinks.

Half an hour later the three of you find yourselves walking down the LA streets. Couples, gaggles of girls and guys, and college students, are walking around, enjoying the night life. Some reek strongly of alcohol, others laugh boisterously and others are simply quiet, drinking in the night and holding their hands for comfort. Your own hand aches for that of another's but you stuff that feeling away. The alcohol in your veins is not strong but it heightens your desires a bit, making them harder to ignore. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drink when your feelings are still so new and fresh for Bellatrix. Shaking away your head you focus on the discussion happening between the two siblings. Right now the two of you are inside a clothing boutique and Ginny is holding up a crop top to her chest. "And what exactly is so wrong with this shirt, Ronald?" she asks, and you haven't heard her use his full name in a while. She only ever uses it when he is pissing her off.

"What's so wrong with it is that it doesn't even deserve to be called a shirt. Look how short it is! I've seen underwear that's longer than it!"

"Now you're just overexagerrating." Ginny turns to you for support. "Tell him he's being a dunce!"

"No, you tell her she's being ridiculous!" Ron also turns to you for help. You merely chuckle at this, as Ginny shoots her brother a dangerous look. "Like she's going to be on your side!"

"Of course she would! She's a responsible adult! She'd never be caught wearing such garbage!" He yells back at her.

"Garbage?!" you can practically see the steam rising from Ginny's face. "What about the clothes you're wearing? That worn down plaid shirt and those awfully colored khaki pants are not going to get you anywhere with the ladies!"

"You keep my clothes out of this!" He raises a finger to scold her, his face flushing at her insult.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the store clerk coming up to inspect what is going on and you shush the two of them before they can get kicked out of the store. "Ginny, I think that top would look wonderfully on you." Ginny sticks out her tongue at Ron at this. "See, I told you she would agree with me."

Ron let's out an exasperated sigh and runs his hands through his hair before he laces them above his head. "Fine, get the bloody top. But I will not be paying for it."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to do so," Ginny saunters off, cockily heading to the register with the shirt thrown triumphantly over her shoulder.

Once she buys it, the two of them are off again. "Hey, let's get a bite to eat. I don't know about you but I'm starved." Ron points to an okay looking bar/ restaurant down the street.

"Is that okay with you?" Ginny asks.

You nod your head. "It has been a while since I ate, so why not."

The place is dark inside, lit up only by neon lights that change from blue to green. A waitress approaches the two of you as you sit down at a side table, one with a view of the street in front of you. The three of you decide to order up a plate of wings to share, some spicy, some buffalo flavored and the rest plain. With that you get a fancy little fruity drink, Ginny orders a mimosa and Ron gets a beer.

"How are classes going for the both of you?" you ask them to get a conversation started.

"It's going well. I almost can't believe I'll be done with my last year of grad school," Ron's reply is a bit muffled by the amount of chicken stuffed into his mouth right now.

"Ron, don't talk with your mouth full," Ginny scolds over her daintily bitten chicken.

"What are you, my mum?" he grumbles but slows down in his intake of food. For good measure he wipes the sauce off of his chin. "I just have to finish my thesis and then all will be well. Then I can finally relax."

"Don't think you can just slack off," Ginny threatens, waving her now clean chicken bone at him. "You still have work to do. Mum and Dad expect you to get a good job considering you're the only one who has gone to grad school from all of us."

"I know, you don't have to remind me. Maybe I'll become a therapist like Hermione here."

"If you did want to do that, I could provide you with the connections needed," you say, after you swallow down a sip of your drink.

"Man, I should have made that my focus then. Instead I'm doing education," he admits.

"Yea, Won Won over here is going to be a teacher. Not exactly a great role model, with that horrible fashion sense," Ginny says, elbowing you and you chortle as you watch Ron's face pain at the use of his nickname. "What did I tell you about calling me that?"

"What? Calling you Won Won?" Ginny laughs and he makes a move to smack her on the arm but she jerks back. The rest of the meal goes on like this, the two of them bickering every once in a while with a gleam or two of normal conversation before they dissolve into childish behavior once more. Ginny is finishing up her second year in college and has decided to go into psychology, as she was inspired by you. She intends to focus on the research portion more. You tell her you'd be glad to offer her any help she needs with finishing up her major.

The wings steadily get finished, most of it thanks to Ron's giant stomach. Full and satisfied the three of you order more drinks as you continue chatting about plans for the future. "Hey, that reminds me, Hermione would you like to hang out? The three of us?"

"Sure. Where?"

"Like to a movie or something?" Ron offers up, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I heard there's a nice one that just came out."

"I can go. If it's the weekend."

"Of course," Ron stammers. "Wouldn't want you to miss work." He exchanges a look with Ginny who raises her brows at him, urging him to go on. You miss this exchange because your attention has been drawn outside. There looks to be two people arguing on the street across from this pub and as you squint to make out the details of the event your heart nearly leaps into your throat. You'd recognize that mane of dark hair anywhere. _What is she doing out here?_ You hiss.

The man she is with looks to be getting aggressive with her, pushing her right arm. "Hey, Hermione, you got any favorite movie types? Do you like romance?"

"No!" you gasp out, as Bellatrix stumbles back from the man's repeated arm shovings.

"No?" Ron raises a brow at the level of horror you've said that with.

"I'll be back," you announce and push back from the table, grabbing your purse and running out. "Hermione!" Ron cries out after you but you're already out the door and running across the street, causing a car to hit the brakes and honk angrily at you as it nearly hits you. "Sorry, sorry!" you raise your hands in apology, too concerned with reaching Bellatrix to note how close to the car you were.

"Bellatrix!" you cry out and her head jerks to look at you. "Herm-" your name doesn't get to leave her mouth as suddenly it's pummeled by the angry man's fist. She goes down and you let a little scream leave your throat at this. "Bellatrix!" you kneel next to her, helping to prop her up. Blood smears her nose and lips and she wipes it on the back of her hand, surprised by how dark it looks.

"What is wrong with you?" you spit at the man after you've ascertained that Bellatrix is for the most part fine.

"She came at me first!" the man yells, huffing and puffing with angry vibes. He's drunk, you can tell, and his speech is a bit slurred.

"That's a lie! He came at me just because I was looking a bit too long at him!" Bellatrix explains getting up and teeth bared.

"You weren't looking at me, you were grilling me! That calls for a fight on my block!"

"There's no need for violence. We'll be on our way, let's just forget anything like this ever happened." You try to remain as calm as possible, your hold on Bellatrix's elbow tightening warningly.

The man growls at you but he seems to be contemplating this. At last he lets out a tsk and moves to go away. You let out a breathe, glad that the situation has been avoided. "That's right. Walk away, because you know if you had to take me on, you'd lose!" Bellatrix jeers and you want to smack yourself in the face. Really, did she have to antagonize him?

"What did you say, you bitch?" he roars out and cocks his fist as he aims it at her. You smartly take a step back to avoid this. Really, you are not in the mood to deal with this anymore. You tried to stop it. You really did. Resigned you settle over by a lamppost, your back against it as you coolly watch the events unfold.

"Hermione! What's going on?" Ron asks, rushing over a bit breathlessly.

"Is everything alright?" Ginny adds, the two of them coming to stop by you.

What were they doing here? "You guys left the-"

"Yes. We were worried for you. We saw you try to stop this fight and decided to join in but..." Ginny trails off and frowns as the sound of fists meeting flesh fills her ears.

"I didn't get to pay for the bill!" You say, honestly more appalled by that than the battle going on right now.

"We paid for it, so it's fine. But should we really let them-" Ron pales as the crunch of bone and a high pitched voice fills the air. A thud follows and you sigh, turning to glance at the fight. The man is on the floor, howling in pain and clutching his no doubt broken hand. Bellatrix stands over him, wiping the back of her mouth on her hand, back proud and straight at her victory.

"It's fine," you grumble out, tired. There is a pain growing between your eyes. "She got it out of her system now." There was no stopping Bellatrix when she really wanted to fight. She turned around at this, blood glistening under her nose and some streaking down the side of her head. "And where did these two gingers come from?" she asks, voice a bit breathless but light with excitement due to her fight. You know Ginny recognizes her but she stays mum.

"They just so happen to be my friends." Your voice is tight. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, duh." Bellatrix rolls her eyes as if this should be obvious. "You weren't at home, so I got worried." Ginny does a double take at this, but since she's standing behind your right shoulder you don't catch it. Ron just sends confused looks between the three of you girls.

"Perhaps you should have stopped to think I was hanging out with friends. My life doesn't revolve around you. And I'm very upset that you beat someone up again. I thought we were over this."

"He was asking for it," she waves her hand dismissively. "And _these_ are your so called 'friends'?" Bellatrix smirks, peering closer at them, hands on her hips. "Are they 'friends' like the last one was, or are you really not sleeping with them. Because gingers? Surely you can do better." Ron's face flushes at the implication of you sleeping with your 'friends' while Ginny flushes at Bellatrix insinuating that she is sub-par simply because she is a ginger.

"I'll have you know that-"

"Shut it ginger," Bellatrix rolls her eyes, cutting off Ginny who only fums harder.

"Bellatrix!" You are aghast by her behavior. Why is she being so nasty? Is she...jealous that you're not spending time with her? You grit your teeth together, take a deep breath and exhale loudly through your nose. "We are not done discussing this." You use your finger to indicate to the man who is still sniffling on the floor, sending expletives out at her while the group of you is having this discussion. Luckily it seems one of his friend's is next to him. Hopefully he'll think to call an ambulance. "Now come on, we've got to get that blood cleaned up before you scare people any further. And for gods sake, behave."

Bellatrix doesn't say anything more, merely sniffs and haughtily tosses her hair over her shoulder. You turn to your friend. "Ginny, is it alright if we can get some ice from your bar?"

Ginny snaps out of a heated glaring at the dark haired woman and nods her head. "Yea. Come on, I'll get some ice for her."

"Thanks," you breathe out and the four of make it to the bar, thankfully without any commentary from Bellatrix who is walking behind you. When you reach the place, it's been shut down and you wonder what time it is. Glancing at your watch you groan softly. It's already two in the morning. Just great. Ginny open ups the place, flicking on the lights. She heads into the back while you sit Bellatrix down on the bar stool next to you. Ron loiters around not sure what to do with himself. "You can go up," Ginny says as she reemerges from the back, a bag of ice in her hand.

"Uh, sure. You don't need any help or anything?" He asks.

"Yea. I can handle this. You need your sleep for your paper."

"I guess...yea I can do that. Just call me if you need help or anything.." he's eyeing Bellatrix no doubt replaying how she had tossed down a man twice her size. Hesitantly he leaves upstairs to where the Weasley family kept their living quarters.

Ginny tosses the ice at the spot next to where Bellatrix's hands are tapping on the counter. She looks a bit salty from Bellatrix's insult before. "Ice?" Bellatrix asks, looking in disgust at the ice bag by her hands.

"Yes, ice for the swelling," you explain to her. Turning to Ginny you accept the wet rag she also brought for you. "Thanks." The red haired girl goes to stand over by the other end of the counter, taking to counting up some things and giving the two of you privacy. You hold up the wet rag and the dark haired woman scrunches up her nose at this. "Why don't you just lick it off?"

"Excuse me?" This comes out more high pitched than you intend it to.

"Lick off the blood like I lick off the blood from your-"

"Bellatrix!" you shout out, horrified by what she is so loudly saying. You just wish you could slap a hand over her mouth.

"What? Are you embarrassed to let the world know exactly what it is that you and I get up to?" Ginny's back stiffens at this comment but she doesn't turn around.

"Bellatrix, stop this!" You hiss at her, eyes threatening years of pain if she doesn't shut up right now.

"Does the doctor want to keep it her dirty little secret-"

You can feel your eye twitch. "I swear to god Bellatrix if you don't fucking shut up-"

"Ooo, I like it when Hermione talks all dirty-" You roughly towel the blood over Bellatrix's mouth, shutting her up. Your strong grip on her chin prevents her from moving her head to the side. She still attempts to squirm around and muffled noises come from her mouth as she tries to speak. Ginny turns to look at you at this and you purposefully avoid her we-have-to-talk-about-this eyes.

Done with Bellatrix's blood you move onto her temple, dutifully wiping away the blood there. Her hands come up to play with your shirt buttons as you do this but she remains quiet and doesn't say anything more incriminating. Once all the blood is gone you toss the rag into the trash and grab the ice, tossing it into Bellatrix's hands. She too gets up and puts the ice up to her nose where the swelling is worse.

"Ginny, thank you for your help. Bellatrix is thankful too." Bellatrix scoffs at this, undermining your genuine thanks.

"Sure, no problem. Can we talk later...will you be fine?" Ginny pauses, unsure if she has the privilege to ask you details on the situation. You figure you owe her some sort of explanation so that she doesn't get the wrong idea. But what can you even tell her without telling her the truth?

"Have a good night," you turn on your heel, Bellatrix behind you. The dark haired woman removes the ice from her face long enough to stick out her tongue at Ginny before she exits the door. Ginny huffs but cannot do anything about this.

Honestly, the older woman was acting worse than a teenager.

 **A/N: Immature Bellatrix is fun to write.**


	21. Chapter 21

Portrait of a Tragic Woman

 _Session 20: Fuck the Rules_

* * *

 _I want your tongue twister  
You got me beggin' for your head spinner  
I want it, I want it; lets get loud_

 _-Cash Cash Tongue Twister-_

* * *

Your fingers tap an erratic rhythm on the desk top as you gaze upon the visage of Luna. The blonde sits in front of you, nibbling on a lollipop. Her blue eyes give the illusion that she is disconnected from this world yet she is far more in tune than you would like her to be right of this moment. "You need to stop," she tells you cryptically, her teeth crushing down on the candy.

"Stop what?" you ask tiredly and not in the mood for conversation with her, your fingers momentarily pausing in your tapping before they begin again. Last night you and Bellatrix got into a tiff over her heinous actions. You had thought she was over her reckless actions but it looked like she still had a lot to improve upon. You had spoke too soon when you had told Ginny that a lot of progress had been made, because the progress that had been made had not been substantial enough to eradicate her impulses.

Bellatrix had stubbornly refused to see your point and the two of you had gone to bed in a huff. It still pissed you off to think about it.

"Your energy is caged, yet it's everywhere at the same time. This is not like you." Luna fixes you with one of her gazes. It unnerves you and makes you more anxious than before. You wish she wasn't this sharp. You wish she could leave, wish you had canceled this meeting. You went to bed way too late to be cordial to anyone.

"It _is_ me. I'm just stressed," you explain, rubbing your hand through your hair. Your curls shift and bounce back. You know you haven't convinced her.

"No. It's all Bellatrix's fault." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a thick manuscript. She has taken to writing down her hallucinations. While a good therapy strategy it has transformed into something more. Now it is a hobby, a lively hood for her. She has published three books based on her imagination alone, the very popular Hogwarts series. She slides the thick packet to you and you accept it, warily casting a look at it as you flip through the pages. There is a lot of text; it gives you a headache just glimpsing through it.

"You want me to read this?"

"I wrote this with you and your most dangerous patient in mind. It would do well if you read it," Luna states and her usually breezy voice is hard and stern. "Read it when you have the time and please keep it in mind when you see me next time."

"Very well," you state and fold it up so that you can read it at home.

"Is there anything else you would like to talk about?" Luna asks and you shake your head. "Luna, I'm here for you, and not for me. So tell me what it is you want to talk about it." You place a hand on her knee and squeeze, hoping she will drop her focus on you.

* * *

"I want to go on a date," Bellatrix announces as soon as you enter the house after work. She's waiting in the hallway for you.

"You don't deserve a date," you grunt out, closing the door behind you. "Did you forget about your abhorrent behavior last night?" you push past her and drop your work bag and keys into the usual places they go to after work.

"It's not for me. It's for you. To make up for my behavior last night."

"I'm not going to entertain such an idea. I already told you I won't be furthering this...this thing we have going on between each other," you huff as you sit down on the couch, flicking on the TV, meaning to actively avoid her.

"You mean this attraction between the two of us?" Bellatrix hmms as she follows you and straddles your lap. The swiftness of her action surprises you and you rear up to push her off but her strong hands on your shoulders push you into the back of your seat.

"Don't try to deny it. I know you feel it."

"Bellatrix, it doesn't matter if I feel it, it's wrong. You're my patient and I'm your therapist," you try to remain resolute as her nose dips to your collarbone and begins to trace a line up to your jaw. Your breath hitches as you speak. "It's unprofessional."

"You've stopped being professional a long time ago, Hermione. Letting a patient live in their house, tsk, tsk. What would Narcissa say?"

"I recall not wanting to live with you. You insisted on forcing yourself in anyways," you answer back hotly, her lips hovering dangerously too close to your own. Her eyes are warm as they look down at you and her body is even warmer as she presses down harder on you. You suck in your bottom lip, resisting the urge to kiss her. _Don't do it, don't do it._

"But didn't we learn a lot about each other in the process? You got to find out about my past and I got to find out more about your true personality doc, and how damn much I actually like you."

You shut your eyes at this. Her admission that she likes you is playing with your resistance to her charms. "Stop. Don't say such things." Your voice is weak, soft, begging for the complete opposite. You want to hear more of these sweet whisperings fall from her ruby red lips.

"Why not? Does it make you want to melt into a puddle? Does it get you going?" Her tone is heavy and sultry and you suck in a breath, feeling your heart rate accelerate. Why is she so damn good at getting under your skin? You steel your nerves and open your eyes, deciding on pushing her off right here and now but you pause when you see her facial expression. Her curls are falling softly into her face, and she's biting her lower lip. She wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss her. Arousal tugs at your belly and you know you've lost the battle to her. _Damn you hormones, why do you have to be so stupid?_ You bemoan internally.

"Fine. Let's go on this stupid date. Just get off me."

She smirks at this. "I'd much rather get _you_ off, but we'll see about that."

Her scandalous words cause your face to flame up. "Bellatrix!" With a cackle she is already off and running upstairs to get changed. You trudge up as well to get changed out of your work clothes into something more comfortable.

* * *

You find yourself outside of a bookstore. "This is where you're taking me on a date?" You can't keep the surprise out of your voice.

"Why? Is something wrong with it?"

"No, it's...just I was expecting you to take me to a club or something."

She gives a fake hurt look. "Do you really think so lowly of me? I know you're a huge nerd so I was going to buy you a book and then...well the next place is a surprise." A devious smile hits her lips and you try to keep from rolling your eyes at her. "But we can go to a club if you want?"

"No, I'm good."

"That's what I thought." With that she takes your hand and tugs you into the bookstore. It's almost criminal how both of your hands fit perfectly together. You know what else fits perfectly together-your lips. _Stop this_ , you scold yourself. You will not be thinking about kissing her. Nope, not at all.

The bell dings merrily above your head as you walk in. The store smells of paper and of leather. It's a small book shop but the wooden shelves there are crammed with tomes of various genres of literature. She let's go off your hand, like an owner letting go of their wild and excited dog. "Go on, dig through those books. I can practically see you salivating over them." Her lips are curled up in amusement and you immediately walk over to the book shelf, your finger trailing over the spines of the novels. "Remember, you only get one," Bellatrix sings as she turns to a book shelf of her own interest.

Only one, well then damn, you shall have to make a smart choice. You head over to some psychology books that you can use to further your studies, but then decide to go over to the section that holds classical literature. You've always meant to read the Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. You heft the heavy book up and turn to inform Bellatrix that you are ready to go when you see her coming up to you, her nose in a book.

"Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps. . . perhaps. . .love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath." She looks up from the book at this, a triumphant grin on her face as you can feel your face blush.

"Really?" you scoff, trying to sound put out and failing. "Romantic quotes in a book store? How original." Bellatrix is reading from a pink and white book called _Romance in the Air_ , that claims to hold the most diverse amount of romantic quotes and phrases from literature in it. She merely arches a brow and reads something else.

"You're the reason I get up to face each hectic day,  
How did our lives get so consumed with nonsense on the way  
We used to take the time to laugh and play a game or two  
But now it seems we fight a lot and cry way too much too  
So when you go to sleep at night I'll slip in by your side  
I'll hold you close and squeeze you tight and feel amazing pride  
You're the one that I love best, it's very clear to see  
With every day I know I'm blessed that you're a part of me  
Now let's just try to slow it down and savor all that's past  
For that's what molds our future, and life moves way too fast."

She draws closer to you as she reads this and you reflexively back up until your spine touches the spines of the books you are now pressed against. And on the last two lines she puts the book down, reaching up and shelving it somewhere above and beyond your head. This action brings her up on her toes, and closer to your face. You can't help but feel like she has chosen this poem specifically because it can relate to the both of your situations so well. And now she is claiming to want to steady this uncertain emotion blooming between the two of you.

You feel the strong urge to kiss her now and raise your book up to your lips so you can stop yourself from leaning forward and capturing her soft mouth in yours. She notes this development with amusement and steps back, giving you room to breathe. "I didn't take you for a romantic. Do you love sugared words cooed in your ear?" She asks with no malice, just genuine curiosity.

You shrug at this, setting your book down when the urge to kiss her subsides. "I find it...endearing. As after all, humans are social creatures with the need for social circles and families to keep us happy. Our goal is to find everlasting love, or an adequate mate in the least."

The corner of her mouth quirks up. "A logical explanation for your corny love fascination."

You roll your eyes at her, restraining yourself from delving deeper into this issue. "I've picked out my book. We can go now."

She buys you the book and then the two of you are off, her holding your hand and leading the way. You can't deny it, try how much you wish you could, but holding her hand makes you giddy as does the thought that the two of you are on a date. Going out with Sasha wasn't nearly this much fun. _Sasha...right._ Crap, what are you going to tell her. You can't keep going out with her if you're going to pursue something with Bellatrix. _No, I'm not going to date Bellatrix. Stop that. She's off limits,_ you remind yourself _,_ worried how natural it seems for the two of you to follow this course.

Still, the issue with Sasha remains. It would do no good to continue meeting with her if you were only using her in the long run to deal with your fascination and unconscious feelings for Bellatrix. Seeing Sasha would only spur these forbidden feelings onwards.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't pay attention to where you have walked until Bellatrix speaks. "We're here."

Here is a art museum. It seemed she was intent on catering to your tastes. "I already got us tickets, all we have to do is go in," Bellatrix explains, sneaking out the two tickets she had hidden in her pants pockets. Something tells you this date idea wasn't a spur of the moment thing for her, but something she had intended on doing for some time. Since most of her actions are spontaneous and this date wasn't...what did that tell you about her? The two of you enter, and join a tour group that leads the way around the galleries. The place is crowded, but you're not surprised. It is a weekend after all.

You lap up the imparted information from the tour guide and greedily take in the artwork. You love looking at art, especially that of the Romantic era. Something about it soothes the soul and inspires you to improve your own skill. Once the tour is done, the two of you go off to look at some other galleries. Bellatrix asks questions about the artworks you're looking at and you answer her to the best of your ability. You discuss the art styles, the time periods, and the artists who painted the work.

"I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about all this," Bellatrix hums in appreciation. "Did you want to be an art teacher or something?"

You nod your head in confirmation of this. "I always wanted to work with impressionable minds. Students mainly, but I figured that art history is not a profitable major and so I switched over to psychology. I still get to help others, so it worked out in the end."

Bellatrix doesn't say anything to this for a while. The two of you admire the Van Gogh painting in front of you before you decide to retire to a bench and rest your feet. You've been walking for a while now and still haven't seen everything. But this museum is vast, you doubt you will finish everything today. Only when you sit down do the two of you stop holding hands. You hadn't even realized it, but the whole time your hand had been wrapped in hers. The sensation was just so natural that you forgot about it.

You pull your traitorous hand back into your lap, so that it can't do any more damage. Your cheeks are flushed slightly red because of how blatantly you had been showcasing your relationship with Bellatrix to the world. What if a coworker had spotted the two of you? Or another patient?

"I wanted to be a psychologist too," Bellatrix murmurs sadly by your side. "But complications arose and I couldn't fulfill my chosen path. After my 'mental instability' had been discovered and reported I couldn't get a job anywhere respectable."

"You're not crazy," you state firmly. Bellatrix isn't looking at you as she is talking, her eyes gone far. Her hands fiddle in her lap and you are tempted to reach over and stop them but you don't. You've held her hand long enough as it is. "You have anger issues, and inhibition issues, but that doesn't make you insane. Just...unique," you finish at last, feeling a bit lame at the choice of your words. At this she looks up and smiles at you, something so genuine and pure of joy that it takes your breath away momentarily. It really makes her happy when you treat her like a regular person.

"Unique, hmmm? I think I like the way you say that word," Bellatrix leans forward to you and you know what she's going to do before she does it. You know you should lean away, what if someone you know sees you? But the temptation she provides is too much and it overrides your rationale.

Her kiss is soft, a simple brush of lips. Yet it makes your insides glow like the sun. Then she is up, all purpose and energy. "Alright, no more need to get sappy, let's see how many more art exhibits we can visit before they close this place down." You follow her as she makes her way to the Medieval Gallery next door, a small smile on your face. She was finally learning how to be more free with her emotions, and even though it was only for mere minutes or seconds at a time, it was better than how she had treated them before. She had treated them as weakness. Now, they were a growing part of her.

You spend two more hours in the museum, for a grand total of three hours. Suffice to say the both of you are starved and could use a nice hot meal. "There's this nice bar that serves these really good wings," Bellatrix says as the two of you leave the building, entering the heat of the late afternoon. The sky is a wonderful shade of orange and you decide you want to paint something like the orange sky over a city skyline later in your art studio. It would help commemorate this great day.

"You just want to drink, don't you?" you ask, a teasing lithe in your voice.

"Mmmmmmaybe," Bellatrix says. "Or maybe I just really want the wings at that bar?" She bats her eyes at you in an innocent manner and you can't help but grin. "I didn't say I didn't want to go. Actually, a nice tropical drink would be nice with a platter of wings." Despite not wanting to go drinking earlier, you feel like it now, Bellatrix's near presence for so long charging your veins with strange electricity and making you want to go a bit wild. You need to get this energy out.

"Perhaps we can even hit up a club later," you propose and Bellatrix's eyes go wide at this. "Are you okay? Have you lost your mind?" She pretends to knock on your head and you swat her fist away.

"I'm fine. Think of this as me taking you on a date now."

"Ooo, two dates in one day? Did I do such a spectacular job that you're rewarding me for it already?" A smirk finds it's way onto her lips and she slides up to your side, wrapping her hands on your arm, her face inclined towards you. "I thought you said I didn't deserve a date?" She's giving you a coy look and you turn your head away, trying to remain unaffected.

"I changed my mind. I really had fun on our date," you respond with, trying to steel your nerves. "And so I'm taking you out on a date as well, not only because of how nice our date was, but also because...it's like a last deal sort of thing."

You don't have to look at her to know that she's not happy at your words. Her tone is flat as she asks, "what do you mean?"

"Bellatrix...we can't...you know," you turn to her at this, exasperated that you have to point this out to her. "We can't date."

Bellatrix snorts at this, removing herself from your arm. Her shoulders are tensed although the anger has not reached her face yet. She's uncomfortable and bracing herself for what you will say next. "I'm your doctor. You're my patient," you say softly, feeling like you've already explained this a thousand times over to her. "It won't work out. We'll have to date in secret, we won't be able to be open about it. Because if we were I could lose my job or worse yet go to prison for taking advantage of my patient."

"You're just a coward," she mumbles out, looking at the pavement as the two of you continue walking down to the bar. The streets are getting crowded with the type of people who go out on weekends to party, eat, and have a good time. You try to keep your voice low so as not to make a scene. You hope Bellatrix will have enough sense as not to behave too recklessly either.

"I'm not being a coward. I'm doing what's right," you explain and Bellatrix looks away from you, setting her jaw.

You wonder what she will respond with. At last her jaw relaxes and she turns to face you, a smile on her full lips. "Then I guess I have to show you how _right_ the two of us can be." With that confident remark she reaches for the door handle of the bar you two have reached and walks in. You stand outside, momentarily stunned by the levity in her words; you had expected vitriol. She's determined, and you know just how stubborn she can be. Her words were not spoken lightly.

Shaking your head and letting out a sigh, you wished that love was an easier thing to figure out. Then, steeling your nerve against her, you go in.

You find that the bar is moderately packed and has dim lighting, making it hard for you to find Bellatrix's all black clad figure. When you do find her, seated at a table by the back, she has already taken the liberties of ordering drinks and food.

"What is this?" you ask as you eye the fruity concoction in front of you.

"It's a drink," Bellatrix explains as if this should be obvious.

"I know that," you roll your eyes at her. "What kind?"

"The good kind," Bellatrix smirks.

 _Is she really doing this?_ You think to yourself, huffing under your breath. She could be such a brat sometimes.

"The kind that will get me drunk?" you ask, deciding against reprimanding her and telling her to stop, and just going along with it yourself.

"Depends on your definition of drunk," she responds, shrugging and taking a sip of her own drink, a whiskey on the rocks. She's looking at the lamented menu by her elbow. _I guess I deserve this,_ you tell yourself. You were kind of rude to her before not that you had much choice-you couldn't date her! Or even keep up these romantic gestures with her- and now she was being annoying right back to you by doing the one thing you hated most-roundabout answers.

You take a sip of your drink, figuring it's best to weather out her attitude and that you can just as easily figure out if the drink is alcoholic or not by drinking it. It is. But it's sweet and tastes really, really, good. It doesn't seem like there is a lot of alcohol in this and you estimate you could probably drink a few more without getting too smashed.

Your estimate is off, of course, because after you've had three of these, your world suddenly seems a bit crooked. "Bellatrix?" you ask, with a hint of slur to your words. The finished plate of wings rests next to your elbow. "How much alcohol is in this?" You swirl the glass, looking down into it before raising it to your lips and swallowing down the last remains.

"Enough apparently to get you drunk," she smirks, eyeing you with amusement. She herself has stayed rather sober. "That drink has a lot of tequila in it, but you won't taste it since it's top shelf stuff. And the good stuff goes down like water."

You let out a groan as you set the glass down. "I hate you, you know." The sneaky woman has gotten you drunk on purpose, picking a drink you couldn't resist because of its sweet taste. "Why do you do this to me?" you sit back in your seat, trying to command your brain to get sober right now.

She laughs, setting her own empty glass down. "Because it's amusing to see you drunk. And also, because now we have to go to a club so that you can dance the liquor away, unless you'd rather go home drunk and wake up with a hangover tomorrow?"

 _Sneaky woman!_

"This was all a ploy to go clubbing, wasn't it?"

"You were the one who said this was my date, so it only makes sense I get to choose what I want to do."

"Fine," you grunt out, knowing full well she has caught you and honestly the thought of dancing does seem fine right now. With her help, she pulls you out of the seat, you leaving the money for the bill before the both of you depart for some random club down the street. The music thrums in your head, bass vibrating in your legs. The inside smells of sweat and the floor is packed. Most of these people look young, like they could be college students. You feel a bit out of place; too old. You wonder if Bellatrix feels the same, her being at least fifteen years your junior. But Bellatrix is confidently striding in, holding your hand and pulling you along to a bar inside.

"I already drank too much," you inform her.

"I haven't." She orders up a round of five shots, tall glasses filled to the brim with clear vodka and you follow her as she takes her tray over to an abandoned table. She sweeps the empty cups left by drunk patrons off of it in one motion of her arm and sets her tray down. You want to scold her for making a mess for the club but decide to put it to rest.

"Bottoms up," she winks, lifts the first glass down and drinks it down. You can't help but watch the way her lips part around the rim of the glass, the way her smooth neck bobs as she swallows. She catches you watching her as she finishes the fourth glass. Arching a brow she points to the last cup. "You want this? You look a bit...thirsty."

You flush at this statement and turn your head away after shaking it quickly to deny her offer and observation. You pretend to fix your gaze on a bunch of dancing teens. Someone you think you recognize is among the crowd but you can't be sure, the strobe lights playing weird effects on your eyes. Bellatrix shrugs, picks up the last glass and before she can swallow the liquid down, she grabs your face by the chin and presses the two of your lips together. You open your mouth to protest only to get a mouthful of vodka. You swallow it down to avoid choking on it and once Bellatrix is sure you've done so, she pulls back.

"What was that for?" you ask, your voice harsh from the burning taste of vodka. You're rubbing your throat to help with the unpleasant sensation.

"You looked thirsty, so I gave you my drink. Now let's dance," she grabs your hand and pulls you into the crush of bodies. The music is loud, filling your whole body. You feel a bit awkward, as surely you're too old to be in this club, but when you see Bellatrix enjoying yourself, you do the same, throwing your hands up in the air and saying fuck it.

The both of you dance to around ten or so songs before she pulls you away for more drinks. She orders five more shots and when she hands over two to you you don't refuse them, getting more and more into the spirit of dancing. The both of you have just finished up drinking when a man approaches her, eyeing her figure with interest. He's older, with a grizzled beard and the stench of alcohol and cologne on him. You can smell him even from where you are standing, next to Bellatrix, who is sandwiched in between you and the new unwelcome guest.

"I see you can hold your liquor well. What about I order you some more and we can move on from there and see if you can handle something else in your mouth besides alcohol?"

His words disgust you and you feel anger churning in your chest. Surely Bellatrix feels the same. But her next words surprise you. "I assure you, my mouth can handle anything, no matter how big," she coos and leans a bit closer to him. He takes a seat by the barstool, leaning his head closer to her too.

"And do you have any proof to that? Any examples you could show me?" His eyes are gleaming, curiosity piqued about her.

Why is she encouraging him? Why is she talking to such trash? Your chest burns in fury and as you see his hand moving closer to her arm, which is situated on the bar, you grab her by her upper arm and pull her away from the bar.

"Hey!" the man cries out angrily that his prey is gone but you do not stop, marching Bellatrix over to a deserted corner, like marching a disobedient child to a time out.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, freeing yourself of your hold once the two of you are out of sight of the man and in a dim secluded corner next to a pair of couches.

"What were _you_ doing? He was coming onto you!"

"So?" she shrugs unapologetically. "He was going to buy me a drink."

"You don't need him for that. I could buy you a damn drink if you wanted one so damn much!"

Bellatrix seems caught off guard by your rage but then a smile appears on her lips. "You're jealous."

"W-what? No I wasn't," you stammer, not expecting her to pull this out on you.

"Yes, you were," she hums, a mischievous look in her eye. "Did Hermione not like me going with some man? Didn't like the thought of my mouth on his cock?" She's walking towards you, making you flustered. You need to retain some space between the two of you and so you back up, only able to take two steps before the couch hits the back of your knees and you fall down onto it, your back hitting the soft leather. The move makes your head spin and you realize how dreadfully drunk you've gotten. To the point that all your emotions for Bellatrix have gotten out of hand. Those two shots really did you in.

"I never said any of that," you feebly say as Bellatrix slinks her way over and hovers over you on the couch, her hands planted by your head. Her curls fall into your face, tickling it.

"You didn't have to," she says, her voice low and sending shivers down your back. She lowers her face and runs her nose alongside your cheek causing the breath in your lungs to hitch. Without thinking your hands grab her face and pull it to where you want it. On your face.

The kiss is warm and sloppy, as neither of you have the coordination to pull it off right. A buzzing feeling has settled in your stomach, so strong that it almost hurts. The music of the club seems to fade away during this magical moment and you would have kept kissing if Bellatrix didn't pull away for a breath, or to insert a smug comment. "You need to stop denying yourself and me this. I like you; my feelings for you are genuine. And I can tell you like me too, despite all your claims of not wanting to date because of all that other righteous bullshit. You need to fuck the rules, so I can _fuck you._ "

Her choice words bring a throb to your core and you gasp out, as arousal floods your system strongly. It's so hot, everything is too hot. Yet despite the heat you want to burn more. And Bellatrix is too far away for that to happen, so you pull her closer once more, digging one hand into her curls and the other tugging on the front of her shirt. Your kisses grow more heated, as you force her body to press against yours. She lowers herself gently down onto her elbows, keeping a delicate balance so that she won't crush you under her weight but is closer at the same time.

Your hand in her hair detangles itself and slips under her shirt, lightly scratching a path down her back. She breaks the kissing once more to hiss out, "Home. Let's go home. _Now_." You don't need her to tell you twice. It'd be better to finish this at home. She gets up, helping you up from the couch. As the both of you stumble into the more crowded parts of the club, you have the misfortune of bumping someone and spilling their drink.

"Watch it!" Their angry cry fills your ears and they turn around to glare at you before their glare falls down. "Hermione?" They ask, shock in their voice. Then their eyes land on Bellatrix and shoot back towards you with a myriad of questions held in their green depths.

The buzzing feeling in your stomach from earlier gets stronger and you realize it's not arousal. "Hi, Ginny," you answer, trying to act as nonchalant as you can. You knew you had seen someone you recognized before. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What is _she_ doing here?" she demands, pointing at Bellatrix who has taken to ignoring the redhead and looking around the bar as if this talk didn't concern her.

"Uh, right," you stutter and then the buzzing in your stomach gets to be too much and you bend over as you upend the combination of your multiple drinks all over the floor.

 **A/N: Note: don't drink with Bellatrix. It's gonna end up a bad night.**


	22. Chapter 22

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 22: The Night After_

"I feel terrible," you groan out as you sit up on the couch you've been napping on. Your mouth tastes like dirt, your body aches, and your hair is no doubt a mess. You pass a hand over your face to rub the sleep away from it.

"As you should," grunts out a voice. "You got absolutely wasted." You turn your head to note Bellatrix is standing behind you, still in her clothes from last night, a mug of coffee in her hand. She's leaning against the walls-walls that aren't yours-, brows arched in mocking amusement.

"I blame you for this, you conniving woman," you tell her, feeling too tired to muster much disapproval or venom into your voice, and then get up from the couch, stretching your back until it pleasantly cracks. "Where are we? This isn't my house."

"Wendy's was generous enough to let us stay at her place for the night," Bellatrix answers and you frown. "Wendy's? Whose that?"

"Your little red-haired friend over there," she tips her head in the direction of the stairs and you spot a red head coming up it.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me that," Ginny insists, coming up with a tray containing a cup of tea and some toast on a plate.

"But you look like the company logo. Doesn't she?" Bellatrix asks you and you give Ginny a glance over. With her hair in two plaited braids coming down from the sides and the smattering of freckles on her face, you do have to admit she does look reminiscent of the fast food restaurants logo. A snort escapes from you before you can stop it and feeling guilty, you cover up your mouth and mumble out a quick sorry.

Ginny sighs, rolls her eyes. "How are you doing Hermione?"

"Better, thanks." You've been in the Weasley family's bar plenty enough but never their upstairs. The living room, which you have been sleeping in, is cheerily decorated in green and looks very comfy. Three doors lead off to other rooms and the staircase in the side of the room must lead to the downstairs portion of the house. All is quiet. You assume the family must not be awake yet, or are out of the house. "I really appreciate you letting me stay here for the night. And for letting Bellatrix stay too. As such I will get out of your hair as soon as possible. I've already inconvenienced you enough as it is." You step away from the couch and Ginny frowns.

"I made some food for you. You'll need something to help with the hangover."

"No, really it's fine-" you wave your hands. You already feel bad and embarrassed that she saw you in that state yesterday. There was no need to take advantage of her hospitality.

"I insist. Besides, I already made you the food. And, we need to talk."

Oh, of course. That's why she didn't want you leaving yet. You feel trapped. You want to say no but you know it would be better to explain things to her before they got worse, before she got the wrong impression. "I'll have breakfast then." You give her a watery smile, feeling the pounding of your head begin.

"I wonder what you could want to talk about. Trying to ask for Hermione's expertise on helping you expand your business? Trying to sell more burgers?"

"For the last time, I am not Wendy's!" The way Ginny sounds so exasperated tells you that this has been going on for quite some time now. Why did Bellatrix have to antagonize everyone?

"Could have fooled me," Bellatrix says noncommittally into her mug as she takes a sip. Ginny fixes her with a glare before she turns to you. "I'd like to talk with you. _Alone_."

"Fine. Bellatrix, could you leave us?"

Bellatrix frowns and the urge for her to say no is strong. You can see it in the way her face scrunches up. "Fine," she concedes at last and goes down the stairs. "I'll entertain myself at the bar I suppose, since I'm intruding. Don't blame me if a bottle or two goes missing."

The both of you watch her go, a vein in Ginny's neck standing out. "She's so...insufferable," Ginny finishes, having had difficultly in finding a word to describe Bellatrix. You often had trouble labeling the woman too. Ginny sits down next to you on the couch, balancing the tray on her lap.

"She's...simply Bellatrix." Yes, that seemed to match perfectly.

"Help yourself to the food."

You grab the cup of tea and blow on it to cool it. You aren't certain if you can stomach the toast yet, especially since you will have to have an unpleasant conversation with Ginny about why she saw you with a patient of yours, getting smashed in a bar.

You decide to start before she can.

"Look, I know you...have questions about what happened last night."

Ginny nods her head tightly at this, leaning forward an inch so as to hear you better. "Honestly, it wasn't my brightest moment," you scowl, disappointed in yourself. You take a sip of the tea. It's much too hot yet. "What I'm going to tell you cannot leave the confines of this room, do you understand me?" You eye her, looking for honesty in her gaze. Her eyes do not waver.

"Yes, of course." Is her grave and earnest whisper of promise.

You sigh and settle yourself more comfortably on the couch, finding some spot on the floor that you will focus on just so you don't have to look Ginny in the face as you speak. "The whole situation I am in is less than ideal. It all started about two months ago. As you know, Bellatrix _was_ my patient." You can see Ginny arch a brow on the part where Bellatrix _was_ your patient but she remains quiet, letting you continue. "She had been my patient for a while and I was working hard on her case when I discovered that her mental records might have been falsified. She was incorrectly identified as having various mental disorders. I won't get in their specific nature as those are still confidential. The only disorders she did truly have were her anger management issues and her problems with social conduct. When I told Bellatrix's sister about it she was infuriated instead of elated. She fired me on the spot for failing to think her sister was ill. That same night Bellatrix and her sister got into a tiff. Bellatrix promptly ran away and then I found her on my doorstep with all her personal belongings."

This time Ginny could not remain quiet. "She moved in with you?" Her voice was a horrified whisper and her hand went up to her mouth when she realized she had broken into your speech.

"Yes." You nod your head solemnly. "She and her sister had a really big fight and because of Bellatrix's infamous mental records, she couldn't easily get housing in the city. Additionally, her sister would have found her and she didn't want that. So I let her stay with me because I understood it was extenuating circumstances. I also wanted to satisfy my curiosity. During our therapy sessions, she hadn't been as open about her issues as I hoped, so I made a bargain with her. She would impart the knowledge I wanted from her in order to stay in my house. The arrangement, while odd, worked." You pause here to take a sip of your tea. Still too hot. "During this time I discovered a lot about her, enough to help aid her onto a path of mental recovery. I was able to discover the source of her night terrors and we faced her terrifying past together." At this you look down into your cup, wrapping both hands on it, hoping the warmth will give you the strength to carry on. Just thinking about the dogs and what Bellatrix had to suffer at a young age is enough to bring tears into your eyes.

Ginny can tell something has you troubled for she puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "It was terrible," you whisper to her, your voice weak. "She-she...god, the things she endured at her father's hand and as a result of her mother's careless compliance is enough to scar anyone, even someone with such a tough constitution. I would never wish such a terrible thing upon anyone."

"What happened? Never mind, actually I don't want to know," Ginny quickly retracted her question.

You nod your head and roll back your shoulders to try and dispel the sadness that fell over you. Ginny's hand gives your shoulder a squeeze before it retreats back to her lap. You continue. "It's not a pretty story. But in short, that experience brought us closer to one another and she's grown on me. And I'm sure I have become a comforting person to her. I've seen her in her worst moments, facing some of her worst demons."

"And so that's why you went out clubbing with her?" Ginny asks and you fear she is judging you harshly for this, but the soft chuckle at the end assures you she meant it as an amused statement, not one meant to disparage your choices.

"Yes," you answer, with a bit of melancholy in your voice. "I wanted to...broaden her horizons socially, help her get re-acclimated with interactions between people and the various environments found in this world. Lord knows her sister has kept her cooped up in that house, which most certainly was not helping her mental status." You make this up on the fly, having to cover up the fact that you and Bellatrix were actually on a date. Although as you say this lie, you do realize that in a way by taking her on those trips to the woods, or to recreational locations all over the state and even out of it, that you have been helping her get used to an environment that doesn't consist of the four corners of her room. "And I think it's working, already there have been signs of improvement with Bellatrix just being separated from her sister's influence." A silence falls upon the two of you and you fill it with the task of trying to steady your nerves. Having this talk wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.

This time when you sip your tea it is cooler. "What now?" Ginny asks at last, curious for more, and you give a hapless shrug.

"I don't know. I've never been in such a situation like this before." You pick up your gaze and look her in the eye for the first time since you've begun this talk. "I have no clue what path to take now. Her case has been unlike any of the other cases I've dealt with. I know she needs to go back home and I intend to send her back there, but I feel she will not get the respect and help she needs there. If she hadn't felt that way in the first place then I'm certain she would have sought out a family relative to stay over with, rather than me."

"That does sound like a tough situation," Ginny hums, biting her lip. "What do you think will be the best course of action to take?"

"I guess I'll let her stay around until the end of the month and then I'll try to reconcile her and her sister." At this you let out a dry chuckle. "Ginny, I know you want to be a psychologist, so don't do what I've done. Don't let your curiosity about human nature lead you to such a precarious position as I got myself into. You must have no respect for me now."

"Don't say that! I think you're a bloody brilliant therapist! Just because you made one mistake-"

"-one big mistake," you correct, raising a finger up.

" _One mistake_ ," she sends you a pointed look, daring you to fix her again. You relent. "Doesn't mean that you're a failure of a person. You went out of your way to help her, you really dedicated yourself to helping an ill person. Not a lot of therapists would be willing to do that."

"Yes, but that's because a therapist would get in trouble if they did what I did. It's against the rules."

"But is Bellatrix still a patient of yours? You did get fired from her case," Ginny points out.

You shrug, taking a sip of your tea. "She's not-"

"Then you shouldn't have to worry about getting in trouble. As far as the law should worry, she's merely a person you're letting rent out some space at your place."

"But her sister has been looking for her, and she's asked me about her whereabouts and I've denied that I have harbored her sister. If she ever finds out that I've been letting Bellatrix stay over-"

"Stop worrying," Ginny cuts you off once more. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm sure if Bellatrix did not feel safe with her sister then you can argue the need for you to lie to her in order to keep Bellatrix safe."

You let out a long suffering sigh. "You're right," you hate to admit it but Ginny is making sense. "You'll make a great therapist. Talking to you has eased my mind." And indeed it has. You feel like a big burden has risen off your shoulders.

"I'm glad," Ginny gives you a toothy grin. "You need to talk to people about these things. You can't keep them bottled up. It's too stressful."

"I know, therapists need therapists of their own," you are paused from saying more when a loud crash comes from downstairs. "That doesn't sound promising. I fear we've left Bellatrix by herself for too long." You hastily rise from your seat and set your half empty tea cup on Ginny's tray which she takes with her as the two of you rush downstairs. You can hear some colorful cursing coming from there, no doubt from Bellatrix.

You find her in the pub, on the floor on her back, a pile of overturned chairs around her. "What are you doing?" you ask, your brow twitching. Ginny holds back a laugh but goes to set down the tray on the bar.

"I was trying to stack as many chairs as I could on top of each other," is Bellatrix's causal response, as if this action makes any sense at all. Your headache makes a vicious comeback and you rub at your temples.

"Why? Why would you do that?" You don't even try to cover the exasperation in your voice at her actions.

She shrugs, opting to remain lying on her back, rubbing at where she banged her elbow. "I was going to climb my chair ladder to try and reach the lighting."

"Why?"

"I was bored. You two were talking a long time up there." As if this reminds her of something, she shoots up to her feet faster than you thought possible, her gaze inquisitive. "Why did it take you two so long?" She's suspicious, but why? Was she afraid you betrayed her mental records to Ginny?

"I had a lot to explain. Ginny deserved an explanation." Briefly you wonder if Ginny saw Bellatrix and you making out at the club and if you would have to explain that too. Thankfully, it seemed she hadn't because that hadn't been her first question.

Bellatrix's eyes narrow and she is scrutinizing something on you, but you can't tell what. You feel self conscious with her dark gaze on you and you try to casually flatten the top of your head as you clear your throat and speak in an authoritative tone. You don't want Ginny to think you can't control your own ex-patient. "Anyways, you should clean up these chairs. You've made a mess."

"It's not like this place was neat in the first place," she wrinkles her nose up.

"Bellatrix!" What was it with her and behaving so rudely in the presence of Ginny?

"Oh? Does this place bother you?" Ginny asked with too much smirk in her voice to sound angry.

"Yes, it does," Bellatrix snapped back, stemming her hands on her hips.

"Then you can get the fuck out," Ginny points at the door and Bellatrix's nostrils flare, upset at that suggestion. Before she can retort, you step in front of her, blocking her view of Ginny.

"Ginny, thank you so much for everything you've done. Really, you didn't have to do all that you did for me."

"Don't mention it. I didn't trust _her_ to take care of you," Ginny has taken to leaning on a bar stool, arms over her chest. She arches a brow at Bellatrix who is fuming.

"I'll have you know, I am more than capable of-" quickly you clamp a hand around her mouth, your other hand on her wrist.

"We'll be leaving now," you awkwardly shuffle off to the door with Bellatrix still shouting muffled threats at Ginny and craning her head to glare the girl down. When you make it to the door, she has managed to remove your hand from her mouth and throws out one last taunt. "I'll be taking the Grey Goose, by the way." And then she is off, running from you and down the street.

"The Grey Goose-" Ginny whips her head to the topmost liquor shelf, finding an empty spot where the bottle should be. Her head whips back to the door. "That bitch stole from me!"

"Sorry!" You shout to her as you hastily make it out the door. "I'll pay you back for it!" Then you leave Ginny alone in the pub as you try to chase Bellatrix down.

Bellatrix doesn't slow down until she reaches the door of your house. You give up halfway, not having nearly anywhere near as much stamina as her. She's on the steps, sitting and waiting for you. "The bottle," you huff out, holding the stitch in your side. "Where is it?"

"I merely hid it. I didn't _actually_ take it. What do you take me for? A thief? I know her family of ten thousand and one siblings can't stand losing any more money than they already do. I'd be surprised if they make any money at all with that dump."

"Family of ten thousand and one?" You echo, coming down to sit next to her and trying to regain a regular heartbeat. You're glad she hasn't actually stolen the bottle. But the fact that she derives pleasure from being annoying to Ginny is not good.

"While you were sleepin' I went a peepin'," Bellatrix amuses herself with that little rhyme. "That place has a lot of bedrooms. Her parents literally breed like animals. Must be where they get their last names from."

You knew Ginny had a lot of siblings. It was nothing new. Mainly older brothers. She was the only girl. "Don't be rude about her. What has gotten into you?"

She turns away from you at this, speaking in a lofty tone and trying to act like she is unaffected. "Nothing. I just don't like her is all."

"I know there is a reason for it. And if you don't tell me then I'll have to force it out of you," you threaten. "So it's much easier if you just surrender now."

Bellatrix darkly chuckles at this. "You know if I really don't want to tell you something, I won't. So I dare you to try."

You shake your head, not in the mood for this. You're starving and you wish you had eaten that toast that Ginny made for you. Bellatrix hears your stomach grumbling and gets up, brushing the dirt from her jeans. "Seems someone is hungry. Time to make some lunch." She offers a hand and you take it so she can pull you up.

Bellatrix makes a quick meal out of the food left in the fridge. It looks like it's time to go get groceries. After eating you decide to head out, grabbing your car keys on the way. "Any requests?" You ask Bellatrix.

"I have a list of stuff, just hold up and let me find it." She digs around in a drawer and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it over to you. A lot of the stuff looks expensive. You'll probably buy cheaper alternatives although it pisses Bellatrix off when you do so. She demands to only eat the best. You doubt she would ever eat in a fast food restaurant.

You head out to buy the food and return later, carrying two paper bags.

"Someone left a message for you on the phone," Bellatrix calls out as she comes over and alleviates the weight of the bags from your arms.

"Who?"

"Some guy. I don't know who." She shrugs, going to the kitchen to set the stuff down, unpack it and put it in the right place. You head over to the home phone and press the playback button. Immediately you recognize that voice. "Er, hello Hermione. I'm passing on my way through your town to a conference tomorrow and I figured I could stop by for a chat or something. It's been a long time, so I wanted to catch up. Leave me a message or call me back. I'll be around in half an hour or so."

The message ends and you can barely keep your joy in check. Harry is in town! "Who was that?" Bellatrix asks and you jump. She'd crept up silently behind you and you hadn't noticed. "It's my old friend, Harry. We went to grad school together. He went into psychology too but the more research based field. He's been working on a cross cultural project recently, gathering data from Singapore, Indonesia, and Thailand on social cues, primarily those involved with smiling."

"Fascinating," Bellatrix says dryly and it puts a stop to your excited spiel.

"It _is_ ," you try to convince her but her unamused look does not falter.

"And he's coming over to the house?"

"Yes. I'm so _excited_ to meet him! It's been about three years since I last hung out with him in person. We have so much to catch up on. I need to talk to him," you gush, rushing over to make the call from your cell phone where you have his number saved.

"Does this mean I have to cook dinner for him?"

This makes you realize something with cold clarity. Bellatrix will be here when Harry visits. How are you going to explain her to him...? You can't just kick her out, her stuff is all over the place. There is no way you can clean it all up before he comes, and there is certainly no way Bellatrix will just leave because you told her to. Could you ask her to stay upstairs? Fat chance of that. She wouldn't be able to keep quiet. Shit, what did you do?

"Guess you forgot you got me little ole me to worry about," Bellatrix smirks as your actions cease, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I could leave the house, after preparing a nice meal for the two of you, or I could stay and make a scene, ruining the evening for you both."

You can almost taste the second part to her words. "And? What are you looking for?"

"Surely you don't want me to cause a scene, so I'll leave but, you'll owe me." Her words are slow, purposeful, coy.

Of course there was a damn catch. Why couldn't this just be a simple offer? "What do I have to do?"

"Simple. You'll let me do something of my choosing to you."

"To me?" You can't help the squeak in your voice.

"Yes, to you."

"I don't know, that is a very open demand. You could do anything."

"Oh please. It's not that opened ended. I was thinking of something sexual," she rolls her eyes at you. Your face turns red at her direct statement.

"Oh," comes out of your mouth and you clear your throat to regain some control over your vocal cords. "I thought I made it clear that I would not be engaging in-"

"And I thought I made it clear that I _was_ ," Bellatrix snaps back. "As well as made it clear that your attempts to stem your feelings wasn't working out well for you."

You clamp your mouth shut on that. She is right but you hate her being right. Last night you let her incite your passions because you were intoxicated and your morals sort of just flew out of the window but now that you weren't drunk- "I was drunk, so I was easily persuaded. But I'm sober now and I will not-"

"I'm so tired of hearing the same things over and over from you. It's like you can only say the same bullshit!" Bellatrix raises her hands in exasperation. "I'm here, trying to help you by making your love life easier and you're being a stubborn cow about it." Her hands are fisted now. "What do I have to say to get it through your head? I like you, and my feelings for you are real. If you're worried about that, then don't be. This isn't some stupid infatuation or a sudden desire to try out women because the opportunity is there. No, this is genuine attraction." She levels a look at you, filled with passion, her dark orbs swirling.

"I realized I had feelings for you ever since that stupid cliff dive. Seeing you do that, I was amazed. Here was a therapist willing to help her patients on any level. I didn't know at first that I was feeling attracted to you. It had been a long time since anyone caught my attention like that. And I'd never felt this way towards someone of the same sex. So it took me a while to realize my feelings. And when I did I subdued them, I didn't want them to get out of hand, or for them to get in the way of our therapy sessions. But I've never been really good with subduing my emotions so it wasn't long before they came forth."

"Bellatrix, I-I-I didn't know that-you-you felt this strongly. But we can't-"

"Don't you even fucking say it," she puts a finger to your lips, shushing you. "Don't you dare, or Hermione, I will kick your ass so hard that you'll wish that cliff dive had killed you."

"Well, way to ruin the romantic mood," you mumble around her finger. But you're not really disgruntled. She spoke her true feelings out loud and you know just how damn hard it is for her to do that. Especially when not provoked and prodded to have it drawn out of her by you during a therapy session. You take her finger in your hand and she quickly curls the rest of her hand in yours, the both of your fingers tangling.

"Stop denying yourself, Hermione. You do it too often, and you'll end up not pursuing something that you desire and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Besides, I know you've liked me for the longest time, you just are very good at denying things and pushing them away."

"Huh?" Intelligently escapes your mouth. What is she talking about? You've only recently started liking her.

"When we'd still run circles around one another, I'd do things, like touching you, or biting you to annoy or play around with you, but I found that you had very interesting reactions to them. It made me want to draw them out more. If you were trying to be low about your attraction to me, I saw through it in the first month."

Wow. You didn't even have an inkling of a clue that you were into her. And so early on too. Damn, she was so perceptive it was scary. "So don't give me that cock and bull story of you not wanting to do this, because you've been wanting this for far longer than I have." You sigh at her words and go to rest your forehead on hers. She's right, like usual when it comes to things concerning you. If the two of you were still playing the game, it'd be game over for you. You focus on her eyes, letting their dark depths draw you in. It's like drowning in absolute night with no hope of light ever finding you.

"...We need to get you to leave this house," you mussitate.

"What?" Her forehead goes up at this, moving yours along with it.

"I can't be fine with the concept of dating you if you keep living in my house. It's...I don't know it's just you came here as a patient, so-"

"Isn't it usually the opposite? Couples moving in together and not out?" There is amusement in her voice, but her tone is mostly airy, light. She squeezes your hand in hers. Her face is bright with joy at your attempt to try some sort of relationship with her. Your heart feels ten times as lighter as you do so.

You shrug. "I don't know, but we need to change our living habits. I can't keep sleeping on the couch anymore."

"You could always come back upstairs, I don't have night terrors anymore."

"You don't?" you rear back at this. Her words having slapped you across the face.

She shrugs, as if this wasn't some sort of important development. "Ever since I killed those dogs I sleep like a baby. Best sleep I've had since...well, ever."

"This is good news! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal. You were the only who seemed bothered by the dreams." Her voice is tired and you can tell she's trying to edge her way out of this topic, so you leave it be, still internally glowing and preening about this success. She clears her throat. "Shouldn't you be calling your friend? He's bound to be around here soon."

"Right." You drop your hand from her's.

"But we are not done talking about this whole dating thing," she warns you. You find it adorable that she's reminding the both of you about this talk. Usually you were the one always forcing the two of you to discuss important matters. Glad to see she was taking the initiative.

"Yes, yes," you raise both hands in the air. "I wouldn't dream of missing out on it."

The whole prospect terrifies and elates you more than you care to say. But a smile still graces your lips as you watch Bellatrix get to work on preparing a meal while you phone Harry. A smile too can be found on Bellatrix's face although she tries to control it from spreading.

 **A/N: Finally, it seems Bellatrix has managed to get past Hermione's thick skull and gotten her to see a future for the two of them. Or at least a relationship.**


	23. Chapter 23

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 23: A Special Guest_

 **A/N: Whelp, Hermione's finally managed to accept the relationship between her and Bellatrix, so I guess their dating. Kind of. Not really officially, but somewhat.  
**

 _I can't believe it,_ you think for the millionth time as you cut up the piece of meat on your plate that Bellatrix prepared for your meal with Harry. He was visiting the town and wanted to meet up with you, so you had arranged for him to come over in an hour while Bellatrix readied the food and you organized the mess of her things that she had left so that the house was at least a bit presentable. You thought she was going to leave after she was done with the wonderful meal but you were wrong. Upstairs, while changing into a nicer outfit, you heard the doorbell ring and ran down to get it when you heard the opening and closing of the door. Then: voices.

"Uh, hello," came Harry's surprised voice. "Is Hermione here?"

"Yes," answered Bellatrix and you cursed her internally. You had thought she had left while you were changing. _What is she still doing here?_ You rush down the stairs and Harry's focus shifts to you. "Hermione!" His face breaks out in a wild grin, his eyes glowing in joy. He looks the same as you last remember him. Rumpled clothes, hair mussy and glasses always askew, never sitting perfectly on his handsome face.

"Harry!" You go up and hug him, Bellatrix moving aside to give the two of you more space. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of paper and evergreen trees. "It's so good to see you," you pull back at this. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you," he grins down at you. "And who is this lady over here? I didn't know you had company over."

"Oh, she's-" you flounder as you try to come up with some sort of excuse as to who Bellatrix is. You cannot tell him she is your patient. That would not go over well.

"I'm not just simple company," Bellatrix says confidently, hands on her hips. "I'm more." She adds a wink at that and you can feel your face flush both from shame and anger. What is she playing at? What happened to her offer of cooking dinner and leaving the two of you alone? You should've known she wasn't going to make this dinner easy for you. You send her a glare which she ignores.

Harry stiffens a bit before clearing his throat. The implication is clear; she might as well have come out and said lover directly. "I see. Well then, it's nice to meet you," he sticks out his hand at this. "Harry James Potter." You definitely know he will ask questions about this. Hopefully he can wait until it's just the two of you.

"Bellatrix Black," she shakes his hand with more strength than needed because you can see the small wrinkle that forms between Harry's brows at contact.

"Dinner is ready. How about we talk and catch up over it?" you suggest, trying to regain some control over this situation. Harry nods and moves past the hallway and into the dinning room. Once he is gone you glare angrily at Bellatrix. "What are you doing?" you hiss.

She merely sticks out her tongue at you. "I decided I was too curious to not meet this great friend of yours, so I stuck around. Plus I made the food, so I deserve to get to eat it."

You feel the urge to slap yourself in the face. There's no point in trying to shoo her away now. He's already met her. It would be weird if she suddenly left. "You better behave," you threaten, wagging your finger at her.

A smirk merely tugs at her lips before she sweeps over to join Harry in the room. "I hope you like lamb chops!" she informs him. "Because I made a bunch."

The three of you then settled down to dinner, Harry complimenting the meal and Bellatrix glowing at his praise. You can't help but not be as joyous at this dinner as you thought you would be. You keep feeling the need to keep an eye on Bellatrix, worried she might snap out at him because of something he says, or worried she might act oddly. _I should have more faith in her,_ you scold yourself and decide to focus on your meal in order to dislodge these troubling thoughts.

Bellatrix and Harry seem to get on fabulously and talk at length on various topics. The two are so involved that they almost seem to forget you're in the room. You take the time to collect the empty dishes and wash them, and then pour them light alcoholic drinks. When you set the glass down by Harry, then he seems to remember that you're there. "Hermione, I must say Bellatrix knows so much about everything."

You hum, neither affirming or denying his statement. "You could say I've had many worldly experiences," Bellatrix says, reaching for the glass you've offered her.

"How did you two even meet?" Harry poses and the two of you slightly freeze up at this. You figure you'll let Bellatrix fix this, since she was the one who insisted on labeling herself as more than your mere housemate.

"Bellatrix tells the story better than I do," you say and give her a small smile, while your eyes belie the true nature of why you differed this question to her. The small twitch of her brow is the only indication of her annoyance at being trapped in this.

"It wasn't anything special, really," Bellatrix pretends to go deep into a flashback. "We met at a bar. Poor Hermione was so drunk she couldn't stand up right. So I took her to my house since I lived close by, and she woke the next day, feeling bad about imposing on me, so she offered to buy me coffee. And it started from there." Bellatrix finishes her brief story and you let out a sigh. You shouldn't have let her tell it. She'd made you look like an embarrassment.

"I wasn't that drunk," you mutter, trying to redeem the tale and sit down at the table.

"You didn't see yourself," Bellatrix counters, sipping on her drink.

Growling because there isn't anything you can say to dispute that, as she has neatly cut off any attempt at logical argumentation on it, you turn to Harry who is amused by the little squabbling of you two.

"So Harry, tell me what you've been up to."

Harry launches into the short version of what he has been doing the past three years since you've seen him. Bellatrix somehow tactfully manages to cover up her disinterest. It seems she has no care for cultural psychology. "I managed to secure a scholarship to fund my research in little studied Asian cultures. I worked with a team of about ten men and we went about collecting data on social cues, specifically those of smiling, and compiled the results together. It was a lot of mind numbing work and I honestly got a bit bored with it. Figures and charts start to lose their appeal if you work with them almost everyday. But the culture was fascinating. Got to meet a lot of nice people, try a lot of new things." His gaze got a bit glazed over as he ventured back to his memories of his time there.

"But the research got completed?" you interject.

"Yes. It did. About two months ago, which is when I first got to come back. I would have come to visit sooner but my time was wrapped up with me trying to readjust back to being in California, and also with showing my supervisors I had data to validate all that money spent on the project.

"Then I was informed of this conference happening a town or two away from where you lived and decided I should drop by. You should come to the conference, Hermione. I can take an extra person."

You shrug, "I don't know. I don't even know what it's about."

"It's just a simple panel. I'll be taking questions from the audience and speaking on my project along with the other team members who I worked with. And if you don't want to listen to me blather on, then they'll be other things going on. Other psychologists will be talking about mental disorders in western and non-western cultures if that interests you more."

You have to say that does sound tempting. "Perhaps I can go for a few," you say slowly, dragging out the words and deliberating over your options even as you speak them.

Harry nods his head. "I would love that. And Tom will be there. I'm sure you'd love to meet him."

The blood sloshes in your ears at this. Tom? As in Tom Riddle? "Tom who?" you ask nonchalantly, wondering if you are just over thinking it. In the chair next to you, you are aware of Bellatrix's hand tightening on her glass.

"Tom Riddle," Harry says, not aware of the verbal bomb he just dropped. "The pioneer of abnormal psychology. I think you'd love to meet him. He has so much to impart to you. I could introduce you too. I'm pretty chummy with him."

At this Bellatrix's glass smashes to the floor and the loud noises startles the both of you. Without a word she rushes off upstairs, slamming the door loudly behind herself.

"What-? What's going on?" Harry lightly recoils from the fallen glass, glancing his shoes over to make sure nothing has spilled on them before his eyes trail to the stairs leading upstairs.

Harry has no idea she's a mental health patient, or of the effect Tom has on her. She hates him, perhaps as much as she hates her dad. The reason why is something you are not aware of yet. "Uh, she's- she had a dog named Tom. Who died. She's sensitive about it. It was recent." You say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Oh," Harry says softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's fine," you stumble out from your seat. "I'll check up on her if she's okay." You rush up the stairs, praying that she won't throw an anger tantrum right now because you do not need Harry knowing about her little issues.

You find her in the bathroom, standing stoically before the sink, the water running. Her face is wet from where she has splashed it, some water having dripped onto the front of her shirt. Her knuckles are white from how tightly she is gripping the sink edge, her whole body tensed, and her eyes are blank as they stare into the mirror in front of her. This is something you haven't seen before with her. This quiet anger of her's is unsettling and you are unsure how to approach it. You hesitate in the bathroom doorway before you wrap your arms gently around her waist from the back, settling your chin in her shoulder.

Your touch seems to jolt her from her inner world and her voice is tight, thick with emotion as she speaks in a rush. "I almost erupted. I almost ruined your dinner with Harry because of my anger-"

"Shh, it's okay," you reassure her in as gentle a voice as you can muster. "You didn't do anything wrong. You couldn't have know who Harry would mention."

"But I broke the glass and I probably freaked him out-"

"Bellatrix I know what you look like when this anger hits you. I know what you are capable of, and the fact that nothing of the usual occurred this time on your trigger word means that you did nothing wrong. Because you restrained yourself and were able to leave before the situation escalated."

She is silent as she digests your words and at last the tension from her body fades as she molds herself into your grip. You can see her face, which is turned away from you but reflected in the mirror, relaxing. The two of you stand there silently for a while before you untangle yourself from her. "I'm going to go talk to Harry some more. I think I'll go to the conference with him. I'll talk to this... _guy_ and get a feel for him myself. I don't know what it is he did to you, but I will work with you to fix it. And if I have to confront him myself to do it, then I will. It'll be like a face down, like a big boss battle," you throw in some humor there to cheer her up.

Her reflection in the mirror arches a brow at you. "As if. You're the type of person who never gets to boss battles in video games because all the lesser foes kick their ass."

Your lips twist up in a grin. "As if. I faced everything that you threw at me, I think I'm good. Even when you tried to use that pair of stairs to trip me up, I survived." You reference back to that one trip in the woods when you searched an abandoned house.

"The stairs were not my doing," she raised a finger as she turned around in your arms to face you.

"Sure," you chuckle.

"If I wanted to defeat you, I'd do it differently. Like by seducing you with romantic one liners. The blood from your blush would rush to your head, overheating you and making your head explode in steam and fire." She leans confidently against the counter, sure that this plan would work.

The image is so absurd you can't even deal with it. "I'm sure that's not how blushes work. But it'd be cute to see you try." You give her a patronizing pat on the top of her head before she huffs and pushes you out of the bathroom, all the while you are left chuckling.

* * *

The conference is packed and you trail after Harry's back, making sure to keep it in your sights so that you don't get lost. He's chatting excitably about his conference soon and you nod along and chime in on the right parts, but really you are more interested in keeping an eye out for Tom. Is he here yet? You can't tell. You are about to ask Harry if the two of you are going to meet up with Tom because you think perhaps Harry has forgotten about that, but he answers before you even speak up.

"We'll have to meet Tom after the conference is over. He's busy setting up for something."

"Okay," you simply reply, trying to cover up your disappointment. Harry then bids you goodbye. It is his time to leave. He leaves you by a booth where there are pamphlets denoting what types of conferences are going on. You rifle through them, picking up one that is about Histrionic disorder. _Hmmm, this sounds interesting. I've never treated a patient with this before, but it would do good to know more about it._

You join the group of people heading over to it and once in the white wallpapered room you sit down in one of the folding chairs in the front, taking out a pen and pad to take notes down on. There are three men sitting at the front of the room, chatting to one another as they wait until the registered time slot to start. The one on the left gets up first. He is a balding man and he looks nervous, his face twitching. Overall he reminds you of a rat.

"Hello, ladies and gentleman," he starts, his voice quiet despite the microphone he is holding. "Today's conference will be about Histrionic disorder and the new achievements made on deciphering the illness. I am doctor Peter Pettigrew and I will be introducing the topic to you." Peter Pettigrew...the name sparks some recollections. He was one of the pioneers of mental therapy in California, working alongside with the likes of Tom Riddle and Amycus Carrow.

"As you may or may not know," Peter continues, as he stands still on the stage, his head hunching down between his shoulder blades. "Histrionic Disorder is a personality disorder and as such it is very inflexible, and rigid. It describes deeply ingrained patterns of behavior and the manner in which individuals perceive the world. Usually therapists will look for the following symptoms when trying to determine if a patient fits into the diagnosis of this disorder: Self-centeredness, uncomfortableness when not the center of attention, constantly seeking reassurance or approval, inappropriately seductive appearance or behavior, rapidly shifting emotional states that appear shallow to others, overly concerned with physical appearance, and using physical appearance to draw attention to self. Their opinions are easily influenced by other people but difficult to back up with details. They portray excessive dramatics with exaggerated displays of emotion, a tendency to believe that relationships are more intimate than they actually are, and have high suggestibility.

"This is not a complete list of all the symptoms or manifestations in which this disorder presents itself. Keep in mind that labeling someone with this disorder is difficult and often times it comes out when patients seek help for depression. This disorder is widely reported in women, although it could be men also do have this issue but are not counted as having it because they do not seek treatment for it." Peter has finished his part and hands over the mic to Tom Riddle who has gotten up. He is a handsome man, strong cheekbones and dark thick hair. Despite his age, around his fifties, he looks like he could be in his thirties. His voice is clear and strong and a nice respite from Peter's.

"I have diagnosed many patients as having Histrionic disorder and it is not easy. The signs can be tricky to pick up on and there are even those who I have labeled as the Undercover Histrionic. I wholeheartedly believe that this should be a new term in the DSM. Or at least a subsection under Histrionic. The reason being, that these patients that have this are not your typical personality disorder patient. They are needy of attention when in the presence of others, almost behaving childlike, but when alone they are more than content to be by themselves. They tend to not really follow social conventions and instead answer to their simpler desires. They switch emotions but not as frequently and not as shallowly. Their emotions carry heavily, sometimes affecting their whole person. Additionally, they do retain parts of their seductive behavior, and their ability to worm their way into others hearts is easily added by their physical attractiveness." Tom's voice is very engaging and your hand is running back and forth as you scribble notes down. A new disorder, huh? You wonder if this will hold up, or if the suggestion to the DSM will fade away.

"I have conducted my own research on this topic," Tom says, as he paces deliberately back and forth. He flicks a controller and the presentation flickers to life, showcasing graphs and charts and statistics. "Ever since I had an encounter with a patient like this several years ago. This patient, called patient J, came into my office a very troubled youth indeed. I was able to quickly diagnose most of their smaller maladies but most of their personality kept eluding me until I simply put a new label for them." Tom then goes on in length about his research and you eagerly listen before he turns the mic over to Amycus who summarizes what was just said and draws concluding remarks. Then it is time for questions and your hand is the first to shoot up.

The conference ends after several rounds of questions which the therapists answer succinctly and then you are off, looking for Harry. He surprises you by showing up by the door of the room you are at.

"How did it go?" you ask him.

"It went well. Got some questions that made me sweat," he grins and pretends to wipe away fake sweat on his forehead. "How about you?"

"I learned some new stuff. Stuff that might be helpful if it is ever canonized. Tom was also there, speaking at the event."

"Good. That means we should be able to catch him no problem now," Harry leads the way into the room, hand raised in greeting. "Tom!" Tom, who was talking to Amycus as they gathered up their papers, looked over at the person calling his name.

"Harry!" he cried out as cheerfully, going up to Harry while you travel behind the black haired boy uncertainly. "How are you doing?" Tom asks, giving Harry a hardy handshake. "I thought we lost you to east Asia."

"I don't get lost that easily," Harry joked. "California always called my name and so I knew I would come back here. How did your conference go?" They small talk for a bit as you stand awkwardly off to the side. Eventually they end the small talk as Tom notes your appearance.

"A friend of yours Harry?" Tom turns his eyes to you.

"Yes. A close friend and a fellow psychologist."

"I could tell she was one. All those questions she asked gave it away. Very good questions I must say," Tom admits and you can feel a faint flush to your cheeks at this commendation.

"Thank you," you respond with.

"I'd like to introduce the two of you formally. Tom Riddle this is my friend Hermione Granger, the brightest psychologist of her class year." You and Tom shake hands and you want to scold Harry for over-exaggerating your smarts.

"Not the smartest," you counter and Harry tsks. " _One_ of the smartest-"

"No, _the_ smartest," Harry is stubborn.

"The smartest, hmm. I'd be interested in what you have to say," Tom offers his business card. "And now I'm afraid I must leave. I have a plane to catch." With that he is gone.

You tuck the card into your pocket, making sure to keep it safe. You are sure you will be seeing more of him.

"Let's go get something to eat," Harry suggests. "I'm starved."

"You're always starved," you tease him. "You eat enough for ten men."

"I can't help it. If the food is good then why should I hold back?"

The two of you head for Harry's car, joking all the way.

 **A/N: Sooooooo histrionic disorder, might be a *cough cough, clue on Bellatrix's true issues *cough cough. We getting to the truth slowly but surely.  
**


	24. Chapter 24

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 24: Moving Day_

 **A/N: Just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the support I've received on this fic. It means a lot to me. :)**

You wake up to the sound of grunting and cursing and heavy thuds. Groaning and speaking a few choice curse words yourself at the rude awakening, you get out of your couch bed, tossing aside the covers angrily.

Bellatrix is in the hallway, dragging a suitcase to the door.

"Bellatrix?" you query, pushing the hair out of your sleepy eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm moving out."

"Moving out?" you echo dumbly.

"Yes, moving out," she grins, amused at your parroting of her.

"Why?" you dumbly spill out, coming over to stand next to her. She's piled up all her suitcases, no doubt putting everything back in them. You never thought she had the skill to pack neatly.

"You told me to move out. That if we wanted to have a relationship you couldn't do it while I was here."

Your sleep addled brain takes a moment to fact check that before an "oh" leaves your mouth.

"So, I've packed everything up and I'm taking the cab back home. I wager Cissy is no longer upset about the fire, but she will be upset at my running away," Bellatrix shrugs as she realizes this. "Oh well. It's not like she can do anything beside scold me. I might not be able to see you for a while, though. So don't go cheating on me," she playfully bonks you on the nose with her finger.

"I'm not the sort that would," you reply. You scratch your arm, not sure what else to say to that so you decide to move on. "How will you contact me then?"

"Don't worry about that. I'm super creative when I have to be," Bellatrix answers confidentially. A honking noise comes outside the door and that can only mean the cab is here. "I'll see you soon," she gives you a quick kiss on the lips before she grabs her bags.

"Let me help with that," you reach for her bags and she grunts out a no.

"I can do it myself. Besides, in case Cissy interrogates the cab driver as to where he picked me up from, I don't need him answering that he saw me leaving a house, aided by a brunette."

The certainty with which she says this makes you believe it is not a rare occurrence for Narcissa to interrogate people. "Fine then," you concede and watch as one by one her bags disappear as she takes them to the cab driver and he loads them up. And then, there are no more bags left and she gives a little wave and air kiss before the door closes.

She's gone.

And for the first time in months you will have peace and privacy. Time for yourself. And a bed to sleep in, instead of this couch.

You stare dumbly at the door as all this sinks in. It feels refreshing? Odd? Sad? You shrug and go upstairs to sleep in the bed, since now it is all yours once more. The sheets have been made neatly and you are shocked by the level of cleanliness that Bellatrix left behind. Everything is back in it's rightful place and all her stuff is gone. This proves true for the other rooms in the house. As you sadly look at it you can't help but feel that the house is...empty now and far, far too quiet. As you lay down on the bed and try to stop thinking about it, about this sudden sense of loss that is overwhelming you, Bellatrix's scent wafts up from the sheets. It is dark and heady and you bury your face in the pillow. _This is ridiculous,_ you scold yourself. _It's only been ten minutes that she's been gone. I can't miss her. I was the one who told her to leave._

 _But I didn't think she actually would_ , a smaller voice in the back of your head says and you scrunch your eyes up and inhale the lingering scent on the pillow as you try to force yourself to think about nothing.

* * *

It's been a week. One long, boring week. You hate to admit it, but no matter how much Bellatrix's presence could infuriate you at times, you had grown accustomed to it and you sorely miss it now. The house is boring without her and you are restless as you pace the floors, looking for something to do.

Reading books no longer captures your attention, the action scenes paling in comparison to the type of adrenaline that Bellatrix's adventures could set racing through your body. Even her simpler actions contained much more power that even the biggest explosion in the story.

Painting was too slow and nothing you drew would come out right. It irritated you where it had once calmed you.

Everything felt lonely. So you left the house as often as you could, going to the library, to the bookstore, to a restaurant with some co-workers, and you threw yourself into your work once more. At the end of the week you were growing desperate for Bellatrix to find a way to contact you. Would she call you? Or sneak into your house? You missed her volatile words, her reckless way of doing anything, and of the conversations the two of you got up to. You also missed her cooking. Your stomach had gotten used to such good food and now whatever you cooked seemed to leave you dissatisfied.

 _I'll get used to being alone soon. I just have to be patient. A human is good at adjusting to their setting. It's what has allowed us to survive when other species could not._ You tell yourself this everyday so as to try to stem these annoying feelings in yourself of loss and longing. You had never felt this way about anyone before and it slightly concerns you, but it just goes to show how deep of an impact Bellatrix has made on you and how you can no longer ignore it. She had slithered her way into your heart little by little. You hadn't even noticed it until it was too late to pull her out, because rapid removal would cause you too much pain.

Bellatrix had been right to tell you to refuse not pursuing a relationship with her because she had noticed how much you needed her. But what about her? She had told you her feelings ran deep, but did she feel it on the same level of you? You knew she had confessed her true feelings to you a week back but other than that, most of her thoughts were a mystery to you. Where did she want to go with this? You knew she wanted to date you, but what would happen after she got what she wanted? How long did she even want to date you for? You knew that you wanted it to be for a long time, or for as long as the two of you could get away with this forbidden relationship.

Gah! This back and forth with your thoughts was so annoying! How did people deal with it without going crazy? All week you had stressed out over this. You tried to not let your patients notice this but Luna did. As she always notices everything with you. You swiftly pushed aside her concerns, not in the mood to answer to them. She reminded you to look at her text which she had given you and you nodded your head, saying you would, but you probably wouldn't. You didn't feel like reading anything, especially if it was supposed to concern Bellatrix.

At the end of Friday, just as you were packing up your work bag with files to look at back at home, you had a knock on the door. Looking up, you tried to hide the mixed expression of shock and annoyance on your face, presenting something neutral to Narcissa, who has decided to come visit you.

"Doctor Granger," she speaks softly, eyeing you. "Do you have time to speak briefly?"

You choose carefully which words to say next, knowing that this has something to do with Bellatrix's sudden reappearance. "As long as you don't throw any baseless accusations at me, then I suppose I could talk." You make your tone slightly acidulous, and your eyes hard. Narcissa sniffs at your tone of voice but takes a step closer into the office.

"I just wanted to inform you that Bellatrix has returned safely to my house." There is a beat of silence where you don't know what to say. You stumble to find the right words.

"I'm glad she has come back. Truly. But why are you telling me this? As I recall you thought I was the one responsible for her disappearance in the first place. Or that I was helping her in some degree." You try to keep your voice level so that it doesn't waver and betray you as the liar you are.

Narcissa raises her chin and it almost looks like it pains her to say this but she does. "I was...a bit eager when it came to that, so I apologize for my rude words. I spoke with Bellatrix and she told me she had been staying in the worse parts of town, in the slums with a criminal associate of hers. And that one day you happened to see her out on town and inquired about her position when you saw her in a fight with someone. She told me you stopped the fight and gave her first aid. She said you wanted to call me but she stopped you, breaking your phone with all your contacts on it. But you had talked to her and she had grudgingly told you about what had happened between me and her and thus in this way you had given her advice on what to do with the estranged situation. She said you gave her something to think about and that she eventually decided to follow your words of advice and go home."

She looks at you at the conclusion of her speech and you realize she is looking for confirmation of this story. You quickly nod your head. "Yes, that is what happened. Although I would say I don't blame Bellatrix for breaking my phone. She was highly aggravated and I know she has anger issues still to this day." You hope this response will satisfy her because you don't know what else to say without revealing that none of this actually happened.

"As an apology and thanks for your help, I would like to buy you a coffee, doctor. I also hope we can start off anew, and forget what has happened between us."

While you are not in the mood to go out anywhere after work, or feel anywhere comfortable with chatting causally with Narcissa again, you decide to take up her offer. The prospect that you might be able to gleam some information on Bellatrix's current situation is too enticing to pass up on.

"That seems fair," you nod your head and shoulder the bag. "Where to?"

The both of you end up in a small cafe outside of town. It's a very expensive cafe and Narcissa lets you pick anything you want. You know that the woman's pockets are deep due to her husband's illustrious career (you still haven't seen any of his movies, maybe you should out of simple curiosity as to what he makes) but these prices are so steep, even she must have qualms about buying you food from here. 15 for a coffee? Who even does that? It better be coffee straight from Olympus if someone is going to pay this much. This coffee better make you a genius upon drinking it, or cure all your sicknesses.

In the end you order the simple coffee and a small cheesecake. Narcissa orders a latte and a biscuit. As you two wait for the food to arrive, you tap your fingers on the table top, unsure what to talk about. You still feel a bit awkward and scorned in the woman's proximity. Luckily you don't have to bring up a topic first, because Narcissa does. "How is work faring for you doctor?"

You go from there, grateful for the lead and the two of you make small talk until the food and drink arrives. It turns out that Narcissa's son Draco is turning 11 and she is going to throw him a glamorous party soon. "Bellatrix suggested in inviting you," Narcissa admits and the revelation shocks you so much that you choke on your coffee. You cough to cover it up and wipe your mouth with a tissue. "Really?" you croak out, the coffee still having not gone all the way down. So you swallow forcefully down three times to clear your throat. You never expected Bellatrix to do this. Why? Wasn't it going to be awkward?

"I thought the idea a bit absurd too," Narcissa admits. "Not to be rude, to you of course, but I found the request odd. As why would she want to invite her former therapist over. When she explained to me that the two of you were in the least on some friendly terms and that she wanted to invite a friend over if this party was going to be in the least bit bearable for her, I agreed to her terms. It was either that or have her invite some hooligans and there was no way those criminals are coming anywhere near my mansion or my son." Narcissa took a sip of her drink to calm down, her voice having risen defensively over the idea of harm coming to her son or house.

"This is the invitation," Narcissa slid an envelope towards you and you picked it up, opening it. Of course Narcissa's 'simple invite to coffee' had other motivations behind it. The paper on which the invitation was printed on was high quality stuff and formal, the words written on it stiff and elegant. Probably Narcissa's handwriting. If you didn't know this was a kid's birthday party you would assume it was a business event. The event was this Sunday. You tried to stop a grin from spreading on your face. It seemed Bellatrix had found a way for the two of you to meet up. _Through a birthday party, huh? She really is creative._ _And unconventional._

"What kind of toys does Draco like?" You inquire as you hide the envelope in your bag.

"Please, you don't have to get him a toy. You're doing me a favor by going to the event and keeping Bellatrix from acting up," Narcissa waved her hand.

"I still wouldn't feel right going to a birthday party and not bringing anything."

Narcissa shrugs. "If you must, buy him some Lego's or something of the sort. I'm sure he would love any kind of Lego you got him."

You nod your head and take a bite of your cheesecake, trying to say the next part as casually as possible. "And how is Bellatrix? Have the two of you been able to work things out? I could offer some advice on how to proceed if things are...complicated. Free of charge, of course," you add a smile at the end, making your eyes as earnest and honest as humanely possible.

Narcissa ponders for a moment what to say before she sighs. "Things _are_ complicated. I trust she told you what happened that caused our argument."

You nod your head in affirmation of this. "She ended up setting part of the house on fire. Or at least that is what she told me."

"She set _my room_ on fire," Narcissa growled out, clutching her cup with a bit too much force. "After the moment I fired you from her case she got really upset and left into her room to retire for the night, or so I thought. I went to bed and I usually lock my door because I've had issues in the past where she will storm in and pick a fight at two or three in the morning. This time she picked the lock and then screaming at me, she told me she was leaving and threw a lit match on my rug. This created a barrier between me and her, preventing me from being able to stop her. I was stuck having to crawl out the window and calling the fire department to come rescue me and put out the fire. It was not a pleasant night. And during this time Bellatrix made her escape."

You cringe at the story. Bellatrix could have seriously hurt her sister! You will have to scold her later. Although to be fair this was the Bellatrix of two months ago, before you had helped improve her. It was possible she would never think of doing such a thing in her state of anger now.

"And I've tried talking things through with her, but she is stubborn. And because of the fact she ran away she's on house arrest. Until I can trust her again she cannot leave anywhere."

So it looked like Bellatrix was not leaving the house anytime soon. It put the two of you and your budding relationship in a less than desirable position. Maybe you could fix the situation. "I can help mediate the situation. If she's listened to my advice once and come home as a result of it then I am sure she can listen to it again and resolve the issues that the two of you have. Maybe I can even get her to apologize to you for setting your rug on fire." You let a wry grin grace your lips as you finish up the last bit of your cheesecake. You set the fork down with a gentle clink and fold your hands in front of you.

Narcissa's lips twist up in thought and her eyes are far as she gazes at the table top. At long last she lets out a deep sigh. "I suppose it would be fine if you could come over and have a therapy session with us. I'm still not rehiring you," the blonde woman raised a finger to accentuate this point.

"I understand. I can talk to Bellatrix at the party and evaluate the amount of help needed there. If it is great than I will schedule a meeting with you both. It can even be at the mansion if you want it to be. That way she won't have to leave house arrest."

"Then we shall have to wait and see on Sunday what the results of your prognosis are." With that Narcissa stood up and threw a couple of bills down on the table. "You must excuse me, I have to meet with the florist for Draco's birthday."

 _A florist for a birthday party? Only rich people,_ you snort internally but bid her a goodbye before you wait until she is gone and then leave yourself, heading straight for the closest toy store with vim, excitement blooming in your chest at being able to see Bellatrix again.


	25. Chapter 25

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 25: The Weekend_

Saturday morning you realize with a start that you made plans to meet with Ron to go watch a movie. You rush out of bed, tossing the covers aside and pull the clock off the night stand, groaning at the time. You are supposed to meet at 11 am. It's already 10:30. Hastily you wash up, get dressed, and have a quick breakfast of cereal and milk. Then you are out the door and driving over to the movie theater. The parking lot is packed with lots of car; the weekend is always prime time for movie going. Glancing at your phone screen let's you know that you've made it with a minute to spare. You exit the car and find Ron waiting inside the movie theater lobby and holding two tickets. "I hope you don't mind, I got us tickets to see Romeo and Juliet. I heard the reboot is good."

You shrug. You don't really care what the two of you go to see. Originally Ginny was also supposed to come but something came up and she couldn't come. You have a sneaking suspicion she is trying to hook the two of you up and had pretended she couldn't come. So it was the two of you, and you really hoped Ron wouldn't think of this as a date. You already had a handful dealing with your feelings for Bellatrix and didn't need someone else to muck up your heart and thoughts. "I'll get refreshments and popcorn then. Wouldn't want you to pay for everything."

"It's fine, I'll get the drinks and food," Ron offers eagerly and you cringe internally. Maybe you should have canceled this. The offer to buy the snacks was classic date stuff, when the guy would try to impress the girl with his generosity and money. You didn't want to lead him on. "I'll get it," you say in a tone that is forceful but not too aggressive. You don't want to be rude to him. You like Ron as a person, there is no need to be mean to him just because you don't like him romantically. You will have to let him know this soon in case he thinks he can pursue you. You just have to double check if he really is interested in you. You don't want to reject him and look like a fool if he really wasn't aiming to woo you.

You stand on line and buy the snacks, getting separate drinks and popcorn buckets so that there will be no 'accidental' brushing of the fingers when reaching for popcorn. The two of you then enter the theater, Ron gratefully accepting the offered food although you can gleam a slight disappointment from him that he won't get to share the food with you.

The two of you make casual conversation during the trailers and when the lights finally dim the two of you grow quiet and settle down to watch the movie. The movie is alright. The acting could be better and the dialogue delivered more smoothly, but it's not the worst you've seen. Halfway through the movie Ron's hand inches towards yours on the armrest and you subtly shift it towards your lap, crossing your hands together. This stops his arm's progression and he let's out a small sigh of annoyance that you try hard not to laugh at. Poor Ron is not smooth at all. And the way he casts quick glances at you during the romantic parts of the movie is not smooth either. You pointedly keep your eyes glued to the screen and ignore his stares each time until he looks away.

For the rest of the movie you keep your hands to yourself and so does Ron, instead focusing on shoveling as much popcorn as he can into his mouth before the movie ends. When it does end, the two of you clean up after yourselves and head out into the bright day.

"What did you think?" Ron asks as he tosses out the trash.

"It was okay. Could be better," you say, not really paying too much attention to the conversation. The movie sort of made you long for spending time with Bellatrix and you minutely curse Ron for picking out a romantic movie. You try to knock her out of her thoughts but her red lips curled up in an inciting smirk prance around your head in a mad dance.

 _Only one more day,_ you repeat to yourself. _And then I can see her._

"Yea, I thought the same," Ron agreed only to get more on your good side. "I think some better movies are coming out. We should go check them out."

He wanted more dates? It wouldn't be good to encourage him. You would like to make the message clear that you didn't want to romantically engage with him but he hadn't really opened up an opening for you to smoothly input your statement. So you were stuck with giving a lukewarm response. "I guess we could. I might be busy in the upcoming weeks. I just got a load of new patients." This isn't entirely a lie. You've been assigned three new patients and judging by their thick files they did not come from easy backgrounds. They would be a lot of work.

"Oh, I see." Ron's disappointment is audible and you pretend not to notice. "Then will you let me know when? I could give you my number."

Ugh, the exchanging of digits. You keep from rolling your eyes and hold out your phone. "Sure. What's your number?"

He quickly rattles off the digits and you type them down. "Saved," you announce as you save the contact and put your phone away. "I'll see you around then," you wave to him. "Maybe even at the bar." You have to stop by and ask Ginny if she is trying to hook her brother and you up together. Not that it makes you mad, just that it is annoying and something not needed right now. You've never really been a fan of the opposite sex. Ever since your failed relationship with Blaise Zabini in grad school (the last relationship in a slew of other miserably failed relationships with men) you'd given up because you had realized that you didn't really care much for guys. Harry had been very supporting and your biggest confidant during your transition.

Ron cheers up at those words and with a parting wave you head back to the car. Thinking about failed relationships, it was time to give Sasha a call. You were dreading meeting with her, but you figured that it was best to end this in person rather than over the phone. She deserved that much. The only thing was, what were you going to tell her was your reason for breaking up with her?

* * *

After that 'wonderful' break up with Sasha, you decide you need a drink. And to conclude this unpleasant day with more unpleasantness in the form of coming out to Ginny. You are a very reserved person, who doesn't like to divulge personal information unless it is absolutely necessary. This is the reason why so few people know about your sexual orientation. And now Ginny will have to be one of them. You reassure yourself that since she is a friend and knows so much about you and Bellatrix, then you might as well tell her about your preference in the romantic department.

You quickly change out of your soaked clothes, courtesy of Sasha throwing a drink at you, and head down to the bar. The conversation with Sasha could have gone better but then again break ups were never good conversation. You had been honest with her, telling her that work was preventing you from giving her all the attention she deserved (that work being Bellatrix) and that you also had sort of lost amorous feelings for her. She had gotten mad; her fury no doubt fueled by how you had ignored her for several days, and she yelled at you, saying she was a fool to think she could carry a relationship with you, before she splashed you with the glass of soda.

People in the restaurant had stared as she stormed off and as you sat dripping in your chair. The memory still stung to think about but at least it was over. Now you would no longer have to feel guilty about liking Bellatrix behind Sasha's back.

You make it to the bar and you open the door, happy to see your favorite bartender serving. "Hermione, what will it be?" Her British accent carries over the din of the bar. Surprisingly today it is packed and you wonder why. You squeeze in between two people on the bar stools. "What has got the place so packed?"

"Special drinks. Fred and George decided to spice up the menu and wouldn't you know it, the bar is seeing better business."

"What kind of drinks?" you wonder, full knowing the twins love of weird and wacky things.

"Take a gander," Ginny shoves the menu at you before she gets called off to take an order for a drink.

 _Willy Wonka's Chocolate Dream_

 _Nasty Witch Brew_

 _The Flying Starship_

The list goes on and on of highly creative drinks. And frankly they all look interesting and delicious. The Flying Starship comes with sparklers sticking out of the sides and promises to take one on an "adventure through the stars" probably because it contained a blended form of weed in the alcohol and juice mix. Was that even legal?

"This stuff looks great," you hand the menu back to Ginny who smiles. "I know. Mother and father should have allowed the twins to make this stuff up before but my parents are staunch traditionalists. Kept the menu the same ever since great grandpa Prewitt opened the bar. Fred and George had to muscle this new menu into my parents head for the good latter portion of the year. The only thing that remains to be changed is the indoor decor. The place looks drab and if we want to invite other people besides these old farts then we need flashing lights and pumping music."

"That's what I told mum," Fred cut in as he appeared behind the bar by Ginny's side.

"But mum is stubborn as an ox," George added as he came in from the other side. "We'll have to drill it into her, make her think it was her own idea just so that it can get done." The two twins stood behind Ginny's shoulders. "Hey Mione," they both greeted you.

"Have you tried any of our new drinks?" Fred asked. "It's on the house, of course. We need a friend's opinion on the matter because we plan on making more and need your intellectual thoughts on which ones are a go or a no."

"I haven't tried any of them yet. They all look too good to just pick one from," you admit.

"Then why not try them all?" George winks at you and you laugh as Ginny swats him with her towel. "Stop trying to drive Hermione out of her money. And get to work. It's your shift now."

"Hey, we offered her a free drink. Any and all other purchases she makes are of her free volition," George defends himself, putting his hands up.

"Seriously, pick a drink. And we'll make it for you," Fred said as Ginny took off her bartending frock and hung it somewhere under the bar. Fred and George had already put theirs on. "I'll be back," Ginny informs you before she goes upstairs. You nod your head in response to her.

"I'll take the Californian Sunrise," you say, recalling that was the drink that looked the most normal.

"You're taking a lame one?" Fred teasingly jeered. "You don't want to try some others?"

"I figure I have enough time to eventually try all of them, no need to rush," you say. "I'll drop by for a new drink each week."

"Fine then," George says with a fake pout. "One Californian Sunrise coming up." He then sets to work, mixing in several bottles and juices.

"So, while you're here, would you take a look at this?" Fred takes out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it. On it is a list of drinks and their descriptions as well as ingredients in tiny sloppy writing. "George and I were thinking of making a sort of magic series of drinks. Based off of Nova Luna's Hogwarts series." He leans closer to you and so do you so you can hear him over the chattering of the patrons around you.

A small smile graces your lips at this. That's the book series that Luna writes. It seems she has fans and closer than you would have thought. Fred continues on. "There would be four simple drinks, one for each of the houses in the book series. The Gryffindor drink would be red and meant to be spicy. It would take courage to drink it, and it would inspire bravery in those who did drink it. The Ravenclaw drink would be purple and is very bitter, as knowledge can sometimes be bitter because it takes away the veil of peaceful obliviousness. The Hufflepuff drink would be yellow and it would be reminiscent of honey in flavor. Because loyalty to others is like the sweet bond, or honey, that keeps them close. And lastly Slytherin's green drink would be sweet at first but then it would turn sour. As Slytherin's can be deceptively sweet but they are in truth sour and conniving tricksters."

At this George brings up your drink and you accept it gratefully before he has to go over and make more drinks. "This is really well thought out," you say in a highly pleased and surprised voice. The idea is eclectic and you are sure the younger generations will love it. "You spent a lot of time to make this work. I would love to drink such drinks. Maybe a version for children would be a nice touch too. I'm certain a lot of Nova Luna's fans are younger teens."

"I've never considered that!" Fred exclaims before he calls over to George. "George, did you hear that?"

There is a "what?" from the other side of the bar and Fred rushes over to tell his brother what you have suggested in excited words. You take this time to sip your drink and appreciate the fruity taste. The drink itself is artful, looking like a sunrise. The bottom of the glass is dark but gets lighter in color as it gets up higher, turning a light pink hue.

Fred comes back after a while. "George says it's a brilliant idea. In this way we can get family's to come here. It'll be like a family bar/ restaurant. Come for the drinks and stay for the food. There are other drinks we also thought of making. These would be based on the potions used in the book. So far we've only managed to make three of them." Fred licks his finger as he unfolds the paper more and turns a page. He then taps at the words on the paper.

There's Skelogrow, Felix Felicus and- "Polyjuice potion?" You wrinkle your nose up. Luna told you about this drink. The potion is supposed to taste nasty and smell even nastier.

"Yes. We're going to make it look like a brown toxic sludge and make it really strong as well as grotty. And people who can finish this drink in one go can get it for free; in other words they have to pay for it unless they can finish it. We could make like a competition night with it or something."

You nod your head as you follow along, listening to Fred explain in great detail what else he plans to put on the menu and you offer your words of advice to them. Fred would go into more detail but apparently more people have come in and the bar is even busier. Too busy for George to handle by himself. Fred leaves to help his brother and you nurse your drink, wondering if Ginny is going to come back. The whole purpose of your visit tonight was to talk to her about romantic issues but it wouldn't work if she wasn't here.

Just as you drain your drink and are about to step away from the stool, a warm hand on your shoulder makes you look back. "Let's sit in a booth," Ginny suggests and jerks her thumb back in direction to an empty spot. You follow her there and slide in. "I'll be back with some drinks." She goes off and returns five minutes later with two more Californian Sunrises. You gladly take the proffered glass.

"So, what's up?" She asks as she takes a sip and the glimmer of curiosity in her eyes suggests she is asking the question to probe the movie situation earlier in the day.

"You know what's up," you decide it would best to be straight to the point. "You set me and your brother up on a date."

She shrugs helplessly. "He made me do it. He said that since I was close to you that I should invite you to the movies and that he would work his magic from there. Trust me, I didn't want to do it. But he blackmailed me into it."

You resist the urge to groan out loud. He had used his sister to get a date with you. Not cool. "No offense to your brother but I do not like him in that manner. So could you not encourage his pursuit of me? And I'll do my part in turning him down."

Ginny is not offended in the least. "It might take a while for him to understand that you don't like him. He has a thick skull when it comes to certain things."

"Then what can I do to drive it through his head?"

Ginny shrugs. "Keep telling him no?" she offered unhelpfully. "If you had a boyfriend or something that would work. You could bring them over and then introduce him to Ron. Then that would get the message across."

There were two issues with that plan. One, your boyfriend was a womanl that was notorious among the Weasley siblings. And second, she was one of your ex-patients. You shake your head no. "The situation is a bit complicated. So I can't do that. Although it seems like the only thing that would work."

This talk did not garner the results you wanted, and there was no point in telling Ginny now that you were gay. You couldn't see it in anyway contributing to the conversation.

"What's so complicated with your romantic situation? Are you seeing someone? If I tell Ron that then it might convince him otherwise," Ginny questions.

This sparks an idea. "I am, but it's nothing serious yet. He's one of my old colleagues," you begin as you pull out your phone, swiping through pictures quickly. Landing on the pic of you and Harry at the conference together you pass the phone to Ginny. She appraises the bespectacled man and hands the phone back to you. "He's cute, in the nerdy way. Send me the picture and then I can tell Ron all about how you're actually dating this guy. It should put the breaks to his moves on you."

"I hope so," you answer and send the picture to Ginny along with several excited statements about how great Harry is. Hopefully she won't ask anymore about him, but you can see she is intrigued about this guy so you decide to stay put and answer her questions as vaguely as you can despite the urge to leave the bar increasing.

* * *

Sunday cannot come fast enough and you wake up early. The birthday party is at 2 in the afternoon and you spend the rest of the morning picking out outfits for it. What is appropriate for a kid's birthday party? You don't know. You've never been to one before. As a kid no one ever invited you to one although you desperately wanted to go to one and with a bitter laugh you realize that you got your wish years later. You were going to a kid's party but as a twenty something year old. How amusing indeed.

You finally settle on a flowery and white sundress, brushing your brown hair over your shoulder in a ponytail. Grabbing the gift wrapped Lego set for Draco, you head to the car, jittering with nerves. It's ridiculous that you're feeling this excited to see Bellatrix but you are. You even made sure to linger extra long on what outfits to wear so that you could look your cutest, which is totally not like you.

Throwing the car into gear you drive over to Narcissa's mansion not surprised to see that already the gates have been opened and that there are cars parked around the giant fountain in the middle of a rotunda. You park yours by a red Porsche and begin to feel just the little bit out of place. And poor.

Maybe you should have worn a better dress?

Too late for that now. You knock on the front door and a butler opens it up, requests to see your invitation which you show, before leading you inside down countless halls and rooms and to the back patio of the mansion. There are people milling outside, ladies in long evening dresses and men in suits, all sipping something out of a champagne flute, or snacking on some appetizers and talking to one another. You palm the huge gift under your arm and try not to let the sense of out of placement worry you. You figure you'll say hi to Narcissa, drop the gift off, and then go talk to Bellatrix. If you can find her, that is.

You weave your way through the crowd towards the assemblage of green and white balloons in the middle of the giant lawn. There are rows of tables set up, all with balloons and bouquets of flowers on their white table clothed surfaces. Music plays out of speakers that have been set up everywhere and you spot a tent with a platform under it and a bar that is serving adults alcohol. There are bouncy castles on the other side for the kids to partake in and you can hear the squeals of laughing little kids as they run around, dressed in clothes that make them look like the miniature version of their parents.

The sun is bright and you shade your eyes as you descend the steps of the patio and go onto the grass towards where you have spotted a singular table dedicated to presents. And you can see stacks of presents on top of stacks of presents. Something tells you this boy is spoiled. You are about to stack your present somewhere when a voice calls your name. The hope that it is Bellatrix dies in your chest when you turn around to see that it is Narcissa who has called for you. She is bringing who you can only assume to be Draco and her husband with her. She holds Draco's small hand in her's, Lucius glued to her free side, arm around her waist and glass in his other holding something dark and amber. They are immaculately dressed, all matching golds and whites and blacks.

Draco is a small thin boy with severely sharp features and pale, pale blonde hair. He is holding onto his mother's hand, his features morose and schooled into stone. You give him a wide grin which he does not return before you bring your gaze up to Narcissa. "Miss Granger. Nice to see you. I hope you did not have difficulty in finding this place?"

"No, not at all," you respond with, holding out your present towards Draco. "This is for you, birthday boy." You offer him another wide grin as he accepts the present in his small hands.

"What do we say Draco?" Narcissa demands.

"Thank you for the gift. And I hope you have a pleasant time at the party." He is the very image of a gentleman as he gives you a practiced smile in return. Narcissa takes the gift from him, tucking it under her arm before shooing him away. "Go off and play with the kids dear. But don't get too wild. We have to cut the cake and you need to be there for it." Draco nods his head and runs off.

Narcissa watches him go before she turns to you. "This is my husband the filmmaker. Lucius, this is Hermione Granger." The two of you shake hands, his grip a bit too firm on your hand. His hair is long, tied in a ponytail at the back and pale just like his son's.

"Pleasure to meet you," he rumbles, his voice thick. His eyes are elsewhere, clearly not caring who you are. To him you are a nobody. You're fine with that. Not that you care much for who he is.

"Same," you respond with, trying to imbue the word with earnesty and awe although you don't really care to be in his proximity. "I am honored to have been invited here." You throw that in for good measure.

He nods his head at that, done with this, and tugs his wife by the waist to let her know he wants to leave. She smiles at you as she slowly retreats. "You'll find what you need by the bar. I trust you to take good care of everything." Narcissa's words are vague and mysterious and you wonder if her husband will question what she means but apparently he has better things to do because he is impatient to drag her off. "Have a good afternoon," Narcissa adds, placing your gift down on the table, and then the two of them are striding off towards an affluent looking man who is surrounded by a bunch of women.

Figuring that Narcissa meant you could find her sister by the bar, you set off in that direction. The area around the bar is packed and you don't want to start shouting out Bellatrix's name and risk looking like an idiot so you casually make rounds, peering at people's faces out of the corner of your eye. But you cannot see anyone who looks like her. Frowning and feeling slightly frustrated, you settle down at the bar stool for a drink. The bartender takes your order of a whiskey on the rocks and you just receive it when someone sits down on the stool next to yours.

"What's a pretty young girl like you doing alone by herself?" There is no mistaking the familiar timbre of this speaker and you turn around, a relieved grin on your face, which quickly turns to a slacked jaw when you see what she's wearing. Bellatrix has put on a black dress. It is form fitting, and is tied up by a thick sash around her neck. There is an tear shaped opening on her chest, giving a peek of her cleavage. Black satin gloves come up to her upper arms, covering up her scars perfectly.

Her hair is also designed perfectly, the thick mass of curls pinned up in an updo, with a few choice strands hanging down and framing her face nicely. Her eye makeup is aphotic and heavy, making her hooded eyes even more Stygian. And her lips are incarnadine, and hitched in a smirk.

You are rendered speechless for a good few seconds and Bellatrix laps up your shock happily. "You...look nice," you stammer out after you realize you have been staring for quite some time.

"I gathered, given your reaction. Come, let us leave this place. I haven't seen you for a week and I want to have a conversation with you away from prying ears." She gets up and you follow. The two of you go inside and she leads the way. Inside it is much quieter and you are more available to enjoy her figure blatantly. She knows you're staring and she enjoys every minute of it, especially your flushed expression at being caught.

She takes you to the library and gives you a moment to enjoy the room. You immediately fall in love with it. The ceiling stretches up a good three stories and the bookshelves reach up to touch it, crammed to the brim with all sorts of books. The windows reach the limits of the ceiling too, letting in a lot of light which is perfect for reading. To accompany the enjoyment of the literature are numerous comfy leather chairs and couches as well as a fireplace. "This room is amazing," you breath, instantly jealous of it. You wish you could afford this. Some of the books here look to be ancient and they are encased in glass, held up on stands strategically placed around the vast room. The room is so big that the rows of bookcases could make a maze. One that you wouldn't mind getting lost in.

"I knew you would love this room. Come, there's more," Bellatrix impatiently grabs your hand and tugs you deeper into the library where the bookcases tend to block out the light. The scent of paper and ink permeates the air. You leave what you quickly label as the atrium of the library into the heart of it. And in the center of it is a mini garden. A skylight sheds light on it, the rays of light filtering in through the giant tree's branches. The tree is a weeping willow and it overlooks a small brook that is channeled from some underground water source and disappears into a small pond where koi fish are swimming merrily around. This whole encasement is on a little island of sorts that is only connected to by a bridge as water separates the circle of perfection from the carpet library floors.

"T-this is crazy. Who has this in a _library_? In their _house_?" You can't help the pitch of your voice from going up. Bellatrix merely chuckles at this. The answer is obvious. Her sister would do something like this. You go onto the bridge, passing over the small water moat which has pretty lily pads floating on it. You approach the weeping willow tree and sit down on a rock under it, Bellatrix quickly joining. "I could read books here forever."

"It's certainly a good place for it. And a nice place for conversation too. I wish I could show you the rest of the mansion but there are too many people around and they could start asking questions. Questions that will make Narcissa suspicious of us. I'm already surprised she agreed to let you come to the party. It makes me wonder if she has ulterior motives."

You shrug. It's a possibility. But not one you can stop as you have no clue what she wants from you other than a second chance. "I told her I would help the two of you overcome your personal problems. So I'll be visiting you two quite soon."

"I'm excited about you coming over. Not so much about the first part of that statement though."

You playfully swat Bellatrix on the arm. "If you want to spend time with me then you'll have to do it."

"I should have just stayed at your house. But you didn't want me there," Bellatrix sighs wistfully and pouts her full lips, reminding you how much you want to kiss them.

"It's healthier this way. You needed to reconcile with your sister at some point." After this the two of you lapse into comfortable silence and listen to the gurgle of water into the pond. You could stay like this forever with Bellatrix.

"I missed you," Bellatrix admits, making you turn to look at her as she breaks the silence. Her eyes are soft and focused on you. "I've missed you and all your stupid annoying know it all behaviors," she adds, a teasing twist to her lips at this.

"And I've missed you too and all your intrinsic Bellatrix activities," you snap back playfully.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bellatrix asks but forgoes the answer to the question in favor for reaching up and picking the fallen leaf off of your hair. She twirls it around in between her forefinger and thumb and you watch her do it, as she absently watches you. It feels a bit odd to be finally seeing her after all the time you spent apart. To be fair it was only a week but still. What do you do now? You want to kiss her and decide to just roll with it. Confident that no one is in the library but the two of you, you reach out a slightly shaking hand and cup her chin. She raises intrigued brows but says nothing or does nothing to stop you. Gently you press your lips against hers and sigh at their sinful softness. She responds for a split second before she pulls away, a mischievous grin in her eyes. She gets up, swiftly sliding her heels off and carrying them in her hand, the same hand that carries her hand purse.

"It seems someone is eager. We can't have that." She clicks her tongue as she reprimands you. "Not yet." Tossing that over her shoulder she makes a come hither motion with her finger and you rise up as well, like a puppet on the puppet master's strings and go back in between the lines and rows of books. She is being alluring and tempting and frustratingly out of reach. Is this pay back for you kicking her out of the house? You want to whine out loud like a little kid for her to slow down.

"I think we should play a little game first. I think you should come and find me. Before you get your reward."

"Bellatrix," you whine but she shushes you by putting a finger up to your lips. "Be a good girl and you might just really enjoy your reward." Her voice is low and pure velvet to the ears. You dutifully swallow down your protests and she lowers her finger. "Think of it as a scavenger hunt."

"But what will I be searching for?" The two of have made it back to the library atrium.

"Easy. You already know the answer." At this she drops a heel down by the closed doors of the library. "And try not to get caught snooping around. Wait in here ten minutes to give me a head start." And with a lascivious wink she is out the door, closing it and leaving you in the library by yourself with only your awakening arousal as your companion.

Well, this certainly just got interesting.

 **A/N: I think we all know where this is going ;)**


	26. Chapter 26

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 26: You Don't Play Fair_

The first thing you find is Bellatrix's other heel. She's left it at the junction of two hallways. You pick it up, not wanting to leave it behind. Then you ponder as to which hallway she could have wanted you to take. The left or the right one? You think back to how the heel was positioned. The tip was pointing more to the left hallway. Was it placed that way on purpose or was it just put haphazardly, the position not meant to be a clue at all?

You bite your lip, worrying at it. You figure even if you get it wrong you can always back track and take the right hallway. You head down the left hallway, being wary that none of the staff catch you walking around. Narcissa would not be happy to find you snooping around the house. You only wondered how Bellatrix was managing to shed clothes without anyone noticing her. Then again, she managed to sneak out of the house multiple times without her sister catching her, so she had some talent in this.

The left hallway comes to an end in a big gallery room, the door to it slightly ajar. All the other doors to the rooms you passed down the hall were closed so you figure that Bellatrix has left this door purposefully open. The only way you can be certain is if you peek inside. You push the door open more, finding it is a pretty big room with wide windows to let in light to illuminate the art pieces on the wall and the single grand piano that is the focus of this room, some couches pushed over to the sides.

You immediately identify her purse which she has left on the piano bench. You pick it up, calculating in your head how many more articles of clothing she could have left. There were her two gloves, her dress, her bra and her panties. You can feel a throb in your legs steadily growing. You've never had this much fun in being seduced before. It's building up a sort of excitement in your chest that you haven't felt in a while. It makes you feel like a young child, innocent and easily astounded. You want to get to the end of the chase already, you want her naked flesh between your hands, but you breathe in heavily, trying to calm the surprising amount of inflammation this is bringing you.

You press on, opening the door on the other side of the room, using it to head down another hallway. You swear this house is built only of hallways. You follow it down the end. There's another juncture of hallways and this time no clue as to where Bellatrix could have gone. You hear a voice coming from behind you and thinking quickly you duck behind a potted plant. Holding your breath you wait as a maid takes her time in walking down the hall, trailing a mop and bucket behind her. You only exit the hiding place when you are certain you hear her gone for sure. You peer down both hallways. They look identical with no article of clothing lying around and you decide you might as well make a guess. You take the right hallway this time, hoping you have chosen correctly. You find one of the doors is open at the end and figure this is Bellatrix's clue, the open door meant to spur you on, telling you you are on the right path.

But when you open the door you find yourself in a simple room, one that looks like it could be for relaxing. There is a thick layer of dust on the desk there and some of the furniture has been covered in white sheets. Frowning you look around the room. There is nothing here. No door to even go further on. It looks like Bellatrix gave you a false lead. How sneaky of her. You were going to make sure you let her know what you thought of this with a reprimanding nip to her collarbone.

You exit the room, going down the other hall now. The room at the end is also a crack open and you push open the handle. Warm air assaults your senses, followed by the scent of something sweet. You find yourself in a greenhouse of sorts, the ceiling reaching high up, letting in natural light. The foliage here is thick and green, with moisture beads on it. You begin to feel stifled but can't help from walking around and admiring the plants by utilizing the stone path that trails between the plants. There are little signs labeling and explaining what each plant is. Some of them are exotic and in fact poisonous. You steer clear of those.

You can't help but appreciate how Bellatrix picked this path so she could show you something nice. And you are sure this is the way she wants you to go because you find her left glove on a stone bench under an arch that is overflowing with red roses. You add it to your collection and move on. The green house ends, spitting you out to the side of the mansion. The party can be heard from here, voices giggling and laughing and you know you cannot go in that direction, or else you'll get sighted with all of Bellatrix's belongings. You head to the left, pondering where Bellatrix is leading you now. Surely she wasn't reckless enough to go to the right towards the party. Scratch that, knowing her she would make a choice like that and cut through the people not caring if they saw her like this. You only hope she chose not to do that this time for the sake of you.

Gladly you find she hasn't let you down because you spot her right glove hanging out a partially open window. _Great, she wants me to climb through that?_ You huff and throw your collection of accumulated Bellatrix objects in through the window so that you can free your hands. Then you push the pane up higher so it may admit a human sized object before you pull yourself up. All those months of exercising with Bellatrix have made this easy for you.

Inside you pick up all the objects and leave the room you are in. There is only one direction to take and that is downstairs. Her bra is hanging off of the end of the railing and you can feel your heartbeat picking up as you add that to your collection. This is it, you are getting closer. The basement of the mansion is dimly lit and the ceiling is lower. The thick carpet under your heels muffles your eager steps. There are several rooms here with their doors cracked open a sliver and you check all of them, your urgency rising. You are so close, you know it, but she isn't going to let you win so easily. She wants to toy with you still.

In the last room you spot a dark material on the floor. Her dress. You bend over to pick it up. It is still a bit warm from her wearing it and it smells heavily of her. Your mouth waters at her scent and you have to take a steadying breath to calm yourself down. You feel about ready to explode from anticipation. And as you straighten up you notice the last clue hanging from a doorknob. Your insides clench at this and your breath gets a little ragged.

You were about to have sex at a kid's birthday party. An eleven turning twelve year old's party. This was wrong. So wrong. But despite how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you realized you didn't really care to do the right thing for once. You just didn't care. At all.

Because Bellatrix, was so enticingly close and you needed her. Needed her more than you thought you could ever need someone. You never felt such carnal desire for someone before. Bellatrix was able to stoke your flames of passion higher and more intensely than anyone else had. And you were going to make sure that she paid for it. Paid good for it with her gasped breaths and moans.

You arrive at the room at the end of the hall, picking up Bellatrix's lacy black underwear which she had hung up on the end of the doorknob. This meant that she no longer had any clothes on. After sending you on a wild goose chase around the mansion, dodging the servants and other people's notice as you picked up her stuff, the game had come to an end. You bite your lip as a completely naked Bellatrix waiting behind these doors struck a chord strongly with your libido and it throbbed painfully, making you aware of how wet you've become. You take a shaky breath and turn the knob, entering a darkly lit room.

You are slightly disappointed when you find her wearing a thin satin robe, holding up a glass full of rum in her hand. "What?" she arches a brow. "Did you think this would be that easy?" She takes a sip and takes a seat on one of the darkly red couches in the room. This whole room is dim, with a disco ball attached in the center of the ceiling and a bar to the side. "I want you to work for it. Give me a lap dance."

Her demanding voice is hot as hell and so is her arrogant attitude, the way her chin is imperiously raised as if this is something expected of you. You've never done a lap dance before, so you feel the need to rise a disclaimer.

"I haven't done such a thing. So it might not be good," you say as you slowly close the door behind you. You have doubts about your abilities and even about if you should be using this room, but your libido assures you those are stupid things to be thinking about right now when you can see so much of Bellatrix's creamy thighs. They look to be made of marble, sculpted by the god's themselves.

"Then do your best."

You swallow nervously and take off your heels so that you can feel more comfortable, before tossing them to the side and placing all of Bellatrix's items on an ottoman on your left. Thinking back to what a lap dance should look like, you decide to just wing it and if anything you can laugh it off. It helps that soft music is playing in the background. Music that is ambient and setting this mood.

You slowly walk towards her, untying your hair and tossing it over your shoulder as you maintain direct eye contact with her, hoping that you're making a smoldering gaze right now. You straddle her lap and grab the drink from her hand, chugging it down in one go and hoping that it will boost your confidence. Then you set it aside on the armrest before you refocus your attention of Bellatrix's awaiting face. You give her what you hope is a sultry smirk and warn "no touching" before you grind down on her lap.

Her eyes nearly shutter shut at this first contact and you can see her hands twitch to grab at you but she holds them back. You continue to grind down in a rhythm of your design; all smooth motion and light. You'll speed up before you slow down and along the way you add little caresses to her face or trail a hand down to her chest, all light teasing touches. You even ruffle up your hair from time to time, and you take off the small jacket you are wearing around your shoulders, tossing it aside, so that you can better run your hands down your neck and between the valley of your breasts.

You can feel the alcohol hit your bloodstream and it makes your cheeks flush, makes you more confident. You begin to feel less self conscious of yourself, and less in control of your own desires.

It's getting harder to control yourself as Bellatrix begins to breath more heavily and her eyes begin to take on that lusty luster. Her hands have began to wander to the hem of your sundress, curling around the thin material. She wants to tear it off and you want her to do it too, but you can't let this end yet. You want to make her moan out. So you pick up the edges of your dress yourself, leaving only the thin layer of your underwear between you and her thigh now. And then, you grind down. Her reaction is almost instantaneous. You've soaked your underwear and you know she can definitely feel it, by the way her hands go up to grab your hips.

"No touching," you husk and as a punishment you bend your head down and nip her collarbone, hard. This makes her cry out loud and throw her head back. Her hands do not retreat, instead holding you tighter as you begin to slowly rock back and forth, your soaked underwear sloshing with each motion. She spreads her legs, making it easier for you to ride her right thigh. Her hands help pull you forward into each downward thrust.

You release your hold on her collarbone, taking the moment to draw breath. A raspy gasp escapes your lips followed by another and another. No fair, you were supposed to be doing the seducing here. Not humping away on her leg like some sex depraved teen. But all thoughts of stopping this are quickly shot down by your groin who is now in charge of your body and decisions, and demands you do something to release all this sexual tension building up in you.

"You are so fucking wet," Bellatrix growls into your ear, your head still resting on her shoulder. "Did you get this wet giving me a lap dance, or was it from the scavenger hunt?"

You can't find the words or breath to answer so you merely whimper into her shoulder and she thrusts her thigh up in punishment, hitting your crotch in a pleasant manner. Too pleasant. You can feel your lower stomach twist and you know it is only a matter of time before you cum. "Can't answer?" she hums and runs one hand up to the back of your neck so she can pick your head up. You raise it languidly, and she takes in your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. Then she crashes the both of your mouths together.

The kiss is heated and bruising and you moan into it as she twines the two of your tongues together. You just about want to melt into her, want to press the two of your bodies into one. The heat between the two of you is intense and so is the heat between your legs. Still, you want to feel even more. So you untangle yourself from Bellatrix's front and rise up enough so that you can slip your ruined underwear down one leg and then the next till it is finally off. You toss is somewhere by the couch.

Joining your lips back to hers, you settle back down. The feel of her soft skin on your slit is so, _so_ good and you let out a groan into her mouth, her own gasp at the touch of your most intimate place now touching her, swallowing up your groan before you return to your grinding. You can feel everything more closely now, all your nerves down there extremely sensitive to the touch. And each back and forth makes you want more. You feel about ready to explode, your grinding getting less and less precise as time goes by. All you need is something to pull you over the edge. And Bellatrix delivers it. She parts from your lips and leaves hot open mouthed kisses down your neck to the top of your sundress before she goes back up again, kissing to your jaw and to your ear. The kisses make shivers go up and down your spine but the kiss and then tugging of your earlobe is what does you in. Honestly it didn't take much; the months leading up to this feeling like the most tortuous of foreplay.

With a soft cry you arch your back and clamp your legs tight around Bellatrix's thigh as you cum, your hands digging into her robe front and hanging on for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. With ragged gasps you reclaim your breath, feeling buzzy and tingly all over. You've completely drenched Bellatrix's thigh and you don't feel an ounce of remorse for it.

"I'm glad you were able to get yourself off," Bellatrix says, her voice husky but tinged with amusement. "On what appears to have been my _very_ erotic thigh." Then with more subdue she adds, "This was my first time with...giving a girl...I mean-"

"Shut up," you tell her, not in the mood to discuss emotions right now. You want to taste her, want to have her squirming thanks to you. It wasn't fair that she had the joy of seeing you do it. You kiss her hard, shutting her up before you trail a hand down and find the spot between her legs, happy to see there is nothing there to stop you from touching her warmth and wetness. She jolts at the touch and you raise a sticky hand up into her line of vision before you break the kiss. "Besides, it's not over. There are other ways to get a girl off. And you need to learn. I'll tell you all about them."

"Really?" she seems to be blushing but you can't tell if it's embarrassment or arousal. A combination of both, you figure. You climb off her lap, and on legs that are still trembling slightly from the orgasm, you lower yourself down between her knees, spreading her legs apart.

"But for now you'll have to settle for a demonstration. I still have a mess to clean."

"A what?" Bellatrix's question is lost in a heady moan as you lick a path from her knee to her thigh and to her pussy. "Fuck," she gasps, her hands going to curl in your hair and keeping you in place. Her thighs threaten to wrap around your head so you keep one hand on her right thigh to keep it at bay.

She tastes sweet. Sweeter than you thought. And she's wet too, something you would tease her about just like she teased you, but your mouth is otherwise occupied. Your tongue parts her folds and she begins to pant in desperation as you just as quickly retreat it. "No, Hermione," she begs. "Don't do that."

When you give another good lick she lets out a pleased hmm. You slowly begin to build up a set pace, going from slow to faster, taking your time with drawing her pleasure out until she is a twitching mess above you, not even able to control the moans from coming out her mouth. You chance a look up and see that she's nearly bent over you, her eyes closed and eyebrows upturned. The top of her robe has slipped down, revealing her shoulders and a generous amount of her breasts. Her hair has come loose and it tumbles wildly over her shoulders.

This makes you want to see her come apart and you suck on the bundle of nerves that you know will drive her crazy. Her answer is a near sob of pleasure and she cums, her upper half of her body lowering so that her forehead rests on the back of your head. She shudders once, twice, and then her orgasm is over, leaving her panting and spent. You let her regain her composure as you lick up the rest of her wetness from her folds. She eventually leans back, releasing her hold from your hair. "Hermione-" Bellatrix seems to be a talker after sex and you're not really one, (ironic really, as you love talking a lot and almost never shut up to stop spout information out) so you slide back up into her lap and silence her with another long and heated kiss. She falls into it and gives up trying to speak as your tongue engages hers in a better activity. Kissing.

When you finally finish the kiss, you get off her lap and make way around the room to pick up your discarded underwear and shoes. "We better clean up. I guess I should leave now before Narcissa starts questioning us." Now that your mind has been rid of the overwhelming desire to fuck Bellatrix, you begin to worry about her sister and if she might have noticed something is off about the two of your disappearance. How long has it even been?

"You're going to need new underwear. You can't walk around without any," Bellatrix says as she gets up and readjusts her robe so that it covers her chest. "You can borrow some of mine." Her voice is soft and lethargic. It reminds you of something. Like a cat that's been declawed.

"Okay." The two of you leave the room and you squint your eyes at the brightness of the lights in the hall. You hastily move to fix your hair, hoping that it doesn't look like you just had sex. Thankfully you make it up to Bellatrix's room without coming across anyone, as she leads the two of you through some lesser traveled halls. Music is thumping outside and the birthday party for Draco rages on as people start singing happy birthday to him. You can't help but feel like that is in a totally separate world from the one you are inhabiting right now. This world you are in consists of just you and Bellatrix.

Her suitcases sit lined up by her big walk in closet. Her room is so big, it has a hallway to it. A place to hang up coats or shoes. Even a freaking mini kitchen and dining room. Whose room had such a thing? Your bed room looks like a broom closet in comparison. She goes into a room off to the side and you follow her in there. This is her actual bedroom. Her room is dark, the curtains drawn over the window. Dark colors of black and burgundy consist of it's color scheme. Papers and books are stacked up on the desks and furniture tops and her bed is a tangled mess of sheets. She digs through her drawers and tosses you a pair of underwear. Their red. "You can clean up in my private bathroom before you leave."

You nod your head and follow her instructions to where it is and where the towels are that you can use. The bathroom smells nice and is the only thing in Bellatrix's room that isn't dark. It's a bright blue, with little sea shells and other sea paraphernalia adorning the tiled wails. You hastily shower, careful to keep your clothes away from the stream of water. You don't have extra clothes with you and you doubt it would go over very well if Bellatrix gave you hers to leave in. You wouldn't even make it past the door.

When you finish you towel off quickly and get dressed once more, feeling a bit weird wearing someone else's underwear. Like a pervert. You shrug away the thought and leave the bathroom. "Bellatrix? I think I have to go now," you tell her. She's in the mini kitchen drinking a glass of orange juice.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?" she asks as you approach her, placing a quick goodbye kiss on her cheek.

"I'm not hungry. I just ate," you smirk and watch as her cheeks burn up. It seems she's very bashful right now.

"That's not what I meant," she says, you having successfully ruffled her feathers. She avoids looking you in the eye as she clears her throat and tries to move off topic. "Are you not staying for the rest of Draco's birthday party?"

"Nah, I don't really know him too well or the guests. And I don't think Lucius likes me too much, so I'll just go home and do some work."

It looks like Bellatrix doesn't want you to go, so you wrap your arms around her in a hug that she sinks into. She nuzzles your neck, inhaling your freshly washed skin. You find her new attitude adorable. It seems she gets very tame after sex. Like all that wild energy in her just leaves. A panther turned to a common house cat. You're the exact opposite. You get more aggressive. More commanding and confident in yourself. It's amusing to see how your personalities do a 180 flip.

"I don't want you to go," she mumbles into your skin, the words vibrating up and down your neck.

"I don't want to go either," you admit. Your hold on her shoulders tightens. You regret telling her to move back in with her sister, but it was the right thing to do. She couldn't keep hiding from Narcissa. "But I have to before Narcissa comes looking for us, or comes to some sort of unsavory conclusion." You don't feel right leaving her after such a big step in the relationship between the two of you, but the situation is not ideal. You cannot stay here.

"Yes, I know," Bellatrix pulls back from your touch and you let her. You search her eyes for any emotions she's hiding; to check if she's lying. But she does seem truly fine with you leaving, if only a bit needy now. "I'm gonna go shower now. I have to go back to the party and pretend I wasn't up to no good," she gives you her trademark smirk before she heads over to the bathroom. "I trust you know your way out?" she calls from inside as she turns on the water, the spray almost drowning her words out.

"I do. I'll see you in a day or two," you say and then leave the room, ready to head home and trying to pretend that it doesn't make you sad to leave.

 **A/N: My first m rated scene for this series. It was an interesting experience writing this all from the second perspective POV.**


	27. Chapter 27

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 27: Family Matters_

* * *

I wanna be your puppet on a string  
Baby I'm not holding back, we can do anything  
And even if I am crazy is cause you make me this way  
We're as close to love as we'll ever get

* * *

Monday comes and the alarm wakes you up for work. You lie in bed after slamming the damn thing off, just looking up at the ceiling for a while, your arm thrown over your forehead. Yesterday's events feel like a dream. You cannot believe that you and Bellatrix finally had sex and at her nephew's birthday party of all times and places. You can still feel the soft skin of her thigh pressing up against your slit, the fullness of her lips on yours, and the way she gasped and moaned at the way you touched her. Despite the time and place, it felt right, so right to do it there.

Maybe it had felt that way because it was with her?

You let out a sigh and clench your legs together, your panties squelching. Speaking of dreams, you had just had a very wet one, one in which Bellatrix was using her soft lips on other parts of your body. The sensation still stays with you and you wonder if you will have time to jerk out an orgasm in the shower before you have to leave for work. With that goal in mind you roll out of bed and head over to the shower.

The whole day goes by slowly, and you feel like your thoughts are scattered. That you can barely concentrate on your patients or on the files in front of you. But you can't help it. No matter how hard you try to stop thinking about Bellatrix you can't. She permeates every single thought you have, even the ones that don't start up with her in them ends up with her somehow. It's enough to drive you mad!

There is no way you can focus like this on anything, but you can't just take the day off simply because you cannot concentrate on anything. Sighing, and angry at yourself, you try to pull yourself together for the thousandth time that day.

When you get home it isn't any better. Food tastes bland when it is not cooked by her and you actually miss the mess she made in your house. You never thought the day would come when you admitted to this but...here you are, saddened by the lack of mess in your house. You contemplate just throwing some books off your shelf for the heck of it but quickly discard the idea. It is not worth it. It won't be the same.

You find yourself going upstairs and lying down on the sheets. Since it's been a week the sheets have started to lose the scent but you can still smell it if you push your nose hard into the pillow. The scent of Bellatrix. You let out a sigh of contentment and bury your face in it, one hand trailing down to your groin, seeking relief for the throb that has started to demand your attention.

You'd just started rubbing the front of your panties when your cell phone rings. You let out a tsk, your hand pausing. You grab your phone with your free hand off of the night stand and lifting up your head let out a small groan. It's Narcissa who has called you. What does she want now?

You answer the phone and try not to sound too disgruntled with her. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon doctor. Are you free to speak now?" Is her cordial greeting.

 _No, I'm not,_ you want to snarl out but push the urge away. "Yes. Did you want to ask me something?" You sit up, snapping your jeans shut with one hand. You still feel horny but it will have to wait until this call is over.

"I wanted to ask you if it was okay for you to schedule a meeting with me and Bellatrix tomorrow afternoon."

Right, you had promised to help the two sisters overcome their difficulties. "Tomorrow works for me. What time?"

There is a slight pause as the woman considers. "Is around this time alright with you?"

You chance a glance at the bedside clock. It is five thirty. "That's fine with me. I'll be at the mansion around five thirty."

"Thank you. I will see you then."

"Right," you say, feeling like there is something else this woman wants to say and you not so patiently wait for her to spit it out. Time is wasting, seconds ticking by, and you really want to indulge in some private activities.

"I would also like to thank you for coming over yesterday. Draco appreciated the gift and I appreciated you keeping an eye out for my sister for the better portion of the party. I was sad to hear from her that you had to leave early," Narcissa says and you wonder what angle she is playing at. You wonder if she is building up to some big reveal. Does she know that the two of you slept together that day? If so, you weren't going to give any clues to prove that you had.

"It was no issue. I was glad to see that Bellatrix was doing better despite the troubles she has had with you recently. We had civil conversation before I had to rush home. Apologizes for not letting you know beforehand about my departure but it was a bit of an emergency. Something involving one of my patient's."

"I hold no grudge over that. You are a working woman after all. But you must tell me what you did that made her so calm?" Narcissa says with slight amusement in her voice. You had an inkling of what she is talking about but you ignore it.

"What do you mean?" you ask innocently.

"She was so well behaved," Narcissa purrs. "I haven't seen her this calm since...forever. And when I asked her why she was acting this way she merely gave me a smirk and told me I should try it sometime too. That it might loosen me up."

You give what you hope isn't an awkward chuckle as a blush spreads on your face. You can't really tell Narcissa you fucked Bellatrix into a more subdued state. Arousal stabs you between the legs at this and you bite your lip to hold back the groan that you so badly want to let out. "I merely talked to her about propriety and social customs and so forth and so on. I was amazed that she listened. I didn't take her for a listener. But I am glad I was able to help make your evening smoother."

"Of course," Narcissa says and you wonder if she believes you or not. "I suppose you will have to teach me your ways tomorrow, doctor," she says coyly and you grimace as an image of you riding Narcissa's thigh shows up in your head unbidden. You _definitely_ would not like to do that. You shake your head to dispel this thought and think of a better one. Of a woman with dark curls and full red lips right under you.

"See you tomorrow then," you say, hoping to end this conversation already and this time Narcissa seems to have spoken all she wanted to because she hung up. Breathing a sigh of relief you toss your phone to the side, your hand already in your pants, bypassing the thin material of your panties. You don't have patience to start off slow anymore. You push two fingers deep inside you, letting out a shocked gasp that turns into a moan. Before you can so much as move them around, your phone rings.

Again.

"What the fuck is it now?!" you question angrily, retracting your hand and picking up the phone. It's Ginny. What does she want? She's never called you before, so why now of all times?

"Hello?" you raise the phone to your ear and Ginny greets you back. "Hey, sorry to bother you but I just wanted to give you a quick update on the Ron situation."

You had completely forgotten that the boy was still insistent on dating you. "Oh, right. What did he say. You showed him the picture of Harry?" You wondered if the situation had alleviated.

"Yes. I did. I casually mentioned about how you were seeing this guy and he asked me if it was anything serious and I said he'd have to ask Hermione about it and then he kind of got a sad look on his face, and-"

"And what?" you ask a tad impatiently. You don't have time for long winded stories. You were kind of busy.

Ginny clears her throat at getting cut off but she figures your impatience is caused by curiosity and not annoyance. "I think he's going to ask you about it, so be prepared to talk with him about it. I think he isn't sold on the idea completely, cause you've never talked about Harry around us until now."

You let out a sigh. "I'll just wait until he brings up the topic with me."

"You might have to bring it up first. He's not exactly good at talking about serious things. He won't mention it, just drop hints, and if you don't get those hints then he'll forget about the topic and nothing will be resolved."

"Fine, I'll bring it up with him. I'll just have to think of a good enough time to meet with him and break it to him. I don't want to lose him as a friend however."

"That's a moot point. He's going to get mad at being rejected and things will be uncomfortable between the two of you. I've seen him deal with rejection before and it's not pretty."

"But I'll be rejecting him before he even knows he's rejected," you say but then realize you don't really care if he gets pissed off as long as the one you really carry feelings for is okay. Why are you wasting time discussing this with Ginny? If Ron wants to be childish about these kinds of issues then you don't want to have to deal with him. "You know what, I'm sure feelings will get hurt along the way. There's no point in fretting about it now. And now I must be going. I have things to do that require my attention. But thanks for the update," you add the thanks at the end hastily, not wanting her to think you rude for dismissing her so quickly.

"No problem. I'll see you at the bar then." Ginny then hangs up and you put the phone on silent so that it won't bother you anymore. Then, you continue on where you left off on.

By the time you finish, showered and feeling refreshed, a pleasant ache between your legs, you head downstairs to go eat, having worked up an appetite. A loud meow greets your arrival and you pause on the bottom step, where Crookshanks has situated himself.

"Crookshanks?" you ask in disbelief. Your cat is back! How did that happen? The cat lets out a purr in response as you scoop him up into your arms. "You silly cat. I missed you." You nuzzle his face and he nuzzles back. He must have let himself in through the cat flap.

"You've been a naughty kitty, haven't you. Why did you leave me for so long?" you make conversation with him as you go into the kitchen and pull out some cat food for him. He leaps down from your arms to the floor and waits patiently as you tip the food into the bowl. As he munches on the food you watch him for a moment, answering your own question. _He's come back because Bellatrix is no longer here._ He could never stand to be in the same house as her. She was like the alpha cat and he had been chased off, her staking this as her territory. This cements the point of how much you miss her and you heave a huge sigh. This sucks. You hate to admit it but letting her move in back with her sister may have been your stupidest decision. You regretted telling her to leave in order for you to feel comfortable dating her. But at the time it was what had felt right.

Now it felt wrong. Painfully wrong.

But it was too late to do anything about it. You put the cat food back and pet Crookshanks' orange fur as he feeds in order to calm yourself. "Welcome back Crookshanks," you whisper softly to him and his tail flicks to acknowledge the words.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon you find yourself sitting on the plush royal blue couch in front of Bellatrix and Narcissa who are sitting a cushion apart on their couch. Narcissa is sitting stilly, back ramrod straight and stirring some sugar into her tea, tapping the spoon on the side of the cup when she is done and handing the spoon to a servant who takes it from her and leaves, bowing his head. Bellatrix was shaking her leg, arms and legs crossed. She was avoiding looking at her sister. Narcissa also avoided looking at her sister but it wasn't as blatant. You yourself are ignoring making eye contact with Bellatrix, images of her bent over you as she came, making your stomach feel weird. But no matter how hard you try, your eyes unconsciously drift to her. It makes a small blush settle on your cheeks and you hope it doesn't show.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you could drop by." Narcissa says ever politely and you give her a plain smile back. "It was no problem for me. I like to see my former patients striving forwards in life and if there is anything I can do to aid them then I do it." You twist the pen in your hands, pad on your lap. "Now, where can I begin to help you ladies? I am aware of the issue that lead to Bellatrix's running away from your home, Miss Malfoy. There was a conflagration that caused quite some damage to your property but I take it that you weren't mad at the property damage but worried about your sister's mental state."

Bellatrix snorts at this and Narcissa gives her a look but Bellatrix refuses to acknowledge it. The blonde speaks. "I was disquieted because it seemed to me that Bellatrix was highly upset, more upset than usual and I couldn't understand why. I wanted to make amends with her but she chose to run away and even now that she is back she still refuses to talk to me about what had bothered her so." While Narcissa is talking to you, she is also talking at Bellatrix and you can see the black haired woman's shoulders tense up. That is not good.

"Let us not start prying," you say to Narcissa. "Patience is important in Bellatrix's case. She needs to feel comfortable in sharing her emotions and if she does not feel like it then she won't do so. Trying to force it out of her will only make things worse."

"I've been patient with her, for far too long!" Narcissa exclaims, her hold on the tea cup shaking. She takes a deep breath and restrains herself, her hand stilling. "I am her sister. I think she should feel comfortable speaking to me at any time and on any matter."

At this the raven haired woman's lips split in a grin. "I'm sure you wouldn't like what it is I think about, Cissy." She turns her eyes to you, making your heart jump. "Or who I think about." You lower your head at this, trying to avoid getting implicated in her words. Narcissa follows her gaze and when she sees it lands on you, she frowns, her eyes flaring in some dark emotion. You pretend to be invested in something written on your legal pad and look at it, trying to avoid the feeling that suddenly the atmosphere has gotten tense. A clock somewhere ticks by.

When you sense Narcissa open her mouth to speak you cut her off before she can say anything too intrusive. "I know it is hard to be patient, but I had the same struggle when I first had Bellatrix in my therapy sessions. She took forever to pry into. She was a hard cookie to crack. You just need to give her the time to open up." You then turn to Bellatrix to address her. "And do not give your sister a hard time Bellatrix. She is very concerned for you. I would appreciate it if you could at least explain to her on a superficial level why you were so disturbed that night you disappeared."

"You want to know why I was upset?" she grinds out through her teeth. Her body is tensed and voice laced with anger and you sit up straighter, worried that you may have to subdue a tantrum that Bellatrix threw. "Because this one here," at this she extends her right arm violently, almost hitting Narcissa on the face if the woman had not flinched back.

"Because she canceled your services doctor. And before you flatter yourself and get a big head," at this she retracts her arm and places it in a stop motion in front of her chest, "I only enjoyed your services because you didn't think me crazy. It was a breath of fresh air in my otherwise crowded life of this and that mental diagnosis. Just illnesses on top of illness fueled by medicinal stupors and endless upon endless parades of doctors. I only wanted to be normal and you gave me that. And she took it away," Bellatrix spits venomously and you are a bit taken aback. You never thought that your sessions had had so much effect on her. But they had. You feel a warmth in your chest. You were successful at least somewhat. So that was the real reason Bellatrix sought you out after the fight with Narcissa, coming over to your house instead of going over to a fellow friend's. She wanted to be next to you because you made her feel normal.

It was funny because you made her feel normal but she made you feel the exact opposite. She made you crazy. Thoughts consumed by her, running in ragged circles, and body attuned to her.

"It's nonsense that Miss Granger thought you were normal," Narcissa says, taking a calming sip of tea, trying to control the ugly emotions on her face that threatened to break her facade. "You are ill. You need help. I fired her in your best interest."

"Fuck you!" Bellatrix whirls her head around to face her sister, eyes daggers. "You took the only good thing that was actually helping me and tried to shove craziness down my throat. I'm so tired of this! Of you! I don't want to be crazy anymore. I want to be normal."

"Well you can't be," Narcissa answers coldly, refusing to look at her sister.

"You're only holding me back!" Bellatrix bolts from her seat and you jump up from yours, throwing your pen and pad to the side to free up your hands. The air is crackling with tension. You are worried that Bellatrix will attack, she is twitching all over, her hands uncurling and curling. While she is red energy, Narcissa is blue calm. In her anger she has only stiffened, her whole demeanor taking on haughty arrogance. It pisses you off to look at her like this.

"I want to move forwards. I want you to believe in me, that I can change, that I can get better!"

"And here is clear proof that you cannot," Narcissa coolly states and with a snarl Bellatrix wretches free the tea cup from her hand and throws it against the wall where it smashes. Narcissa watches, detached and above this situation. She sighs. "You keep proving my point."

"I only have anger issues! Anger issues!" Bellatrix yells, her voice starting to go hoarse as she stomps her foot. You need to stop this before it gets worse.

"Bellatrix, come with me," you grab her by the arm. "Excuse us," you tell the Malfoy matriarch and then tug Bellatrix effortlessly out into a nearby room to talk to her privately.

"Bellatrix, please calm down," you tell her as you rub her shoulders and stare into her angry face. Her anger melts off as you whisper soothing words to her and continue to rub up and down her arms.

"I'm just so tired. So, so, tired," she softly says. "Of being doomed to being the deranged sister of the family. To being crazy old Bella."

"And you won't have to be that if you keep working on yourself and improving."

She is quiet as she steadies her breathing using some techniques you taught her during one of your sessions. "I meant what I said."

"About what?"

"About you. About how when you said I wasn't crazy...it meant...still means a lot to me. So thank you." Your chest swells with intense warmth at hearing those words and you can't help the smile from exploding onto your lips.

"I'm glad I was able to make you feel normal."

"You drive me normal, instead of crazy," Bellatrix says as her arms wrap around your neck and she pulls you close, the both of your bodies twining together and her head resting on your shoulder, yours resting on her shoulder. You can feel the softness of her chest through the thin black fabric she is wearing and you hold in a shiver at the thought of there being no fabric there in the first place.

"It was funny. I was just thinking something along those lines. Except with me being crazy for you," at this you pull back your head a little so she can see the grin and earnestness on your face.

"I guess this means we're meant for each other. Because I make you crazy and you make me normal." At this she gives a contemplative look, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "So does this mean that you need therapy now? Regarding your problems with me driving you crazy?"

"Maybe," you playfully respond, your arms coming to wrap around her waist. This close her scent comes up thickly to you, wrapping you in sandalwood and spice. It makes your mouth water.

"Then I absolutely recommend seeing me for help. I'll prescribe you some kisses for help with that." Her hands come over to dig into your shirt front and she pulls you into a heated kiss. You quickly respond, the thought that Narcissa could come in and see this far from your head right now. You let your hands roam up and tangle into Bellatrix's curls, tugging the hair at the base of her neck. She lets out a soft moan at this, parting her lips and you take this moment to slip your tongue in. Her mouth is warm inside and inviting. You could just stay here kissing her all you wanted.

But she breaks the kiss, pulling away from you, her lips looking swollen from kissing you. "Fuck, I wish we could continue this, but baby sis is bound to come barging in at any time." Her arms drop to her side, although they twitch with the urge to touch you again.

"I know," you sigh with a touch of resentment and fix the front of your shirt.

"Don't worry, I promise I'll find a way for us to meet again." She licks her lips and winks at you and you blush, excited by the prospect of what you will both be doing next time you meet.

Narcissa is in the room where you last left her, not having moved even so much as an inch during your talk. But she has somehow called a servant into the room. The man is cleaning up the mess Bellatrix caused and has brought Narcissa another tea cup. "Bellatrix and Narcissa, I'd like it if the two of you would be able to get along from now on. For a start, I think you should listen to Bellatrix's requests more often, to show her you trust her. And once she knows you trust her then she can trust you with her emotional discharge, causing such temper tantrums to be avoided," you instruct the two as Bellatrix gingerly sits in her spot, like the couch cushion is on fire.

"If I catered to her whims then she'd be out on the streets robbing people blind or causing widespread damage. I do not need that." You can see Bellatrix's fist clench in anger at those words but she doesn't say anything.

You are getting a bit peeved at Narcissa's pigheadedness when it came to her older sister. Why was she so stubborn and caught up in the belief that Bellatrix was badly ill? Shouldn't she be jumping at the first glimmer of hope that her sister was getting better and not put her down?

"If you don't want to do it, then I am just wasting my time in trying to help if you clearly won't take my advice." You try to make her feel bad but she isn't going to fall for that trick.

"I suppose you should go then. It was a waste of time asking you to help anyways, since you've done nothing but undue all the prognoses that Bellatrix has had."

You feel a vein throbbing in your head and you clench your teeth to stop yourself from blurting out curses at her. What was the point of Narcissa trying to start anew with you, or let you come as a guest to her son's party last Sunday to keep Bellatrix company, if in the end she did not want you helping her or her sister? It was pissing you off.

"Very well then. I shall be on my way," you try to say as calmly as you can. "I'd like to use the bathroom before I go. May I?" You need a moment to calm down; splash some water on your face.

"It's down the hall," Narcissa doesn't even bother to get up and show you the way out.

"Goodbye. Have a good day. The both of you," you say curtly, pack up your things, and sling your shoulder bag over your shoulder. You head out into the hall, taking guesses as to where the bathroom could be. On the third door, you get it right and lock the door behind you.

Upon finishing you are washing your hands when you hear the slam of a door from down the hall and screaming. You turn the tap off and listen, wiping your hands quietly as you approach the door and put your ear to it. "Fuck you Narcissa! Fuck you for ruining this meeting!"

"Watch your language Bellatrix!" Is the sharp and shrill remark, Narcissa's tone not raising too high from her frigid tone.

"I will speak however I wish to speak! Especially since you were so rude to Hermione!"

"It's Hermione now, is it?" Narcissa's tone is inquisitive and suspicious. "Tell me, who is she to you Bellatrix? Why do you always get upset when things concern her? Why did you want her to see you at Draco's party? What did you two do during the time you were separated from the party?"

"That- that is none of your concern," Bellatrix blusters, stumbling on her words in her rush to disprove her sister's point. "She merely respects me unlike you do! She gives me a chance to be normal."

"She is merely indulging your vapid fantasies and delusions. And I will not stand for that woman encouraging them," Narcissa is scolding Bellatrix like a little child and Bellatrix has had enough. "I am done talking with you. Do not press me on this. Or else I'll do more than burn down this house."

Narcissa's voice is low. Dangerous. "Is that a threat?" There is a pause in conversation and then smack! The sound of flesh hitting flesh. It almost makes you scramble out the door to stop this but you shouldn't be here. You are not meant to hear this. And besides, Bellatrix could have slapped her sister and not the other way around.

You press your ear back to the door, licking your lips in worry.

"Remember what happened last time?" Narcissa doesn't pause to let Bellatrix answer. "Think on it. Think on it hard and then make your choices carefully. I will not tolerate insubordinate behavior in this house. From anyone, and most certainly not from you." A beat. "Is that clear?"

"Yes," is Bellatrix's sullen reply.

"Good." There is the click clack of Narcissa's heels moving away and you wait a second or two before you wretch the door open, intent on going to comfort Bellatrix but you find the woman is gone as well.

You frown into the empty hallway, feeling uneasy at what you just experienced. Swallowing down your discomfort, you head for the exit. You will talk this through with her next time you see her. What had been the thing Narcissa was referring to? Was it something Bellatrix did? Or something _she_ did?

You rub your forehead as you stress over this. Your hand is twisting the doorknob open when someone calls out your name. You turn around to see Narcissa approaching you. Her face is missing a red mark and with a sharp stab of anger you realize she slapped Bellatrix. For some reason this made you feel possessive. _No one hits Bellatrix_! "Miss Granger. I hope my attitude was not rude to you and that I did not put you off. I simply have opinions that clash horribly with yours. I do still wish to remain in touch. And I will take into consideration what you said today to me. Perhaps I have been too harsh on her. Too worried for social reputation and how she will ruin it for herself and for me rather than be concerned for her well being."

You nod your head at this, lips tight. What is Narcissa playing at? She doesn't want you around but she still wants to be friends? How would that work? "No worries. I will not take any insult at what you have said. I understand Bellatrix is your sister and you do not want a stranger telling you what to do with her."

"You are not a stranger," she smiles at you warmly and this phrase makes you more confused than anything. You don't know what to say to it so you clear your throat, readjust the bag on your shoulder and give her a small fake smile. "Have a good day." And with that you leave the mansion, closing the door on her.

 **A/N: What is Narcissa up to? Why is she acting this way?**


	28. Chapter 28

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 28: Twisted Words_

When you get home, you settle down on one of your comfiest armchairs, ready to take your mind off of Narcissa's odd and unsettling behavior with a fantasy novel. Flipping through the pages you go to where you last left off on but as you begin to read the words start swimming in front of your eyes as your thoughts wander off on a train towards Bellatrix. For once the woman had been hoping that your therapy session would work well, but her sister had shot down her hopes, ruining any chance of success. No doubt Bellatrix was very upset about this and you wish you could comfort her. Perhaps even read out loud to calm her down. You did that once or twice when she was still living with you. Those moments had been the only other time where she had been calm like she was in nature.

She would sit comfortably in her chair, munching on some cookies or drinking down a glass of whiskey. Her eyes would glaze over as you read in a steady and even voice, sometimes taking on different voices to differentiate which character was talking. You'd read until the chapter ended and then she would snap out of the world your voice had transported her too. Then the peace would be gone and she would be up and running around, fiddling with one thing or another.

Damn it, you're thinking about Bellatrix again, and you can't help it. You tap the open book to your mouth, figuring it's best to stop forcing yourself to stop thinking about her. You'll only end up thinking even more about her if you try to avoid these thoughts. Maybe if you indulge enough than you can finally be rid of these ideas for a while. But thinking of Bellatrix and books, Luna had given you a packet a while back. She had said you were to read it while keeping Bellatrix in mind and you had meant to read it but one thing or another keep getting in your way and you just didn't have time to pick the paper up. But you can do so now. Perhaps reading about Bellatrix will quell this hole you feel.

You get up from the armchair, put your book back in it's spot, and slide out the packet Luna gave you. It's thick and you wonder how this girl has this much free time to write. You barely have any energy to do anything after work. You flip open the page to the story and begin to read. The story starts of smack in the middle of a war. The three heroes who have sworn to go against the evil lord Voldemort are forced to be split up when they come across the evil witch Bellatrix.

Hmm.

At this your brows furrow. Bellatrix, an evil witch? Well, one could say she does fit the role. With her dark hair, maniac energy, and penchant for flying off the handle, she does seem scary to one who doesn't know her.

You press on, flipping a page. The story continues to get darker and you continue to get more worried. Since when have Luna's delusions gotten so dark? And so scary? Reading on you only get more and more horrified by what you are processing. In this story Bellatrix the evil witch takes to torturing every one of the three heroes in gruesome and sickening ways. You cover your mouth with your hand, your eyes growing wide at the graphic and sick depictions. You don't want to read but you can't stop yourself from doing so.

Finishing the last sentence in which Bellatrix has taken to ripping out the girl hero's eyeball out to take as a souvenir with her, you fling the packet off to the side as if it hurts you to physically touch it. What was Luna thinking writing this? What is she doing?

You immediately decide that you must discuss this with her in tomorrow's therapy session. If her delusions are getting darker than that means something wrong is happening in your therapy sessions with her. But what? Were you so bad at hiding what you have going on with Bellatrix that Luna picks up on it and becomes concerned for you?

You pick the packet back up and shove it into your work bag. You stare at the closed bag for a while, feeling disgusted for even having to carry the packet around but you need to bring it back to Luna so that you can point out the wrongness of this to her.

That night you can barely sleep, images of what you have read dancing in front of your eyes. You can't believe Luna portrayed Bellatrix like this. The dark haired woman would never do anything like that in real life. Never! Still, the sick taste in your mouth remains and nightmare's plague you throughout the night.

When you arrive next morning to work, you situate yourself on the therapy chair, packet balancing on your knee, hands folded on top of it as you try to calm yourself. Right now you are a mix of nerves at having to address this with Luna and with being angry at her for writing this debauchery!

The blonde comes in ten minutes later, smiling and humming to herself as she skips over to her seat. "Good morning doctor," she says to you, and noting the scowl on your face, her voice turns from airy to concerned. "What's the matter doctor? Your forehead is making this frowny face. That's bad. You'll get wrinkles."

She reaches out a hand to smoothen the creases and you smack her hand away without meaning to do so. The slap resonates in the room and Luna sits back into her seat, holding her offended hand by the wrist with her non-hurt one.

"That hurt," she pouts, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye.

You can feel your face drain of blood at the fact that you snapped at a patient. You lashed out at her. "I'm so sorry," you gasp out, calm demeanor gone. You are panicking. "I'll get you some ice for it." You rise up to go to your mini fridge under your desk when Luna grabs a hold of your wrist with her hurt hand. Her grip is tight and stops you, pulling you back into the seat. She is leaning forwards to keep her hold on you. Her blue eyes are sharp and clear and trained on you.

"Hermione." Your first name from her lips strikes some feeling deep within you awake. But what it is you don't know.

"You read my story. Nod your head yes or no." Luna's voice is different, edgier, harsher, and your throat goes dry at her sudden change in character. You nod your head yes because you can't speak.

She watches your head nod intently, staring into your wide brown eyes. "Good. I know it must have discomforted you. Hopefully it will make you remember."

"Remember what?" you ask, your voice soft.

"Everything. Everything that makes you, you." At this Luna's grip on your wrist tightens and she gets up, towering over you. "Hermione, this, this that I have written," at this she picks up the packet you put to the side when you had tried to get up for ice, "is not the real truth of what happened. But it was as close as I was allowed to get. That girl in the story, in the trio of heroes is you. And Bellatrix hurt you. She's nothing but an evil witch. And she is still hurting you. The pain suffered in the story will be what you suffer now if you do not stop this." Her face has drawn close to yours and her eyes are gleaming with something-mania. Emotions swirl strongly in your chest and you can feel your breath coming in big gasps.

"I-I don't, don't understand Luna," you at last choke out. Right now the blonde is scaring you. She's never acted like this before. "You are over thinking things. Bellatrix is not dangerous anymore, you need to let this grudge that you have against her go."

Luna let's out an angry hiss at this and her fingers are crushing your wrist so painfully it draws tears into your eyes but you do not say anything. "You need to wake up Hermione. Wake up! Wake up!" Her voice is loud and you shake your head no as her hands come up to your shoulders and begin to shake you desperately.

"No. No. Stop this Luna. This isn't you," you tell her, panic creeping into your voice as you close your eyes and place your hands over your ears, her tone of voice only rising and her shaking only increasing. "Wake up Hermione. Wake up and see the truth!"

"No!" you finally scream at her as you can feel your head throbbing painfully. It feels like sharp needles are being jabbed rapidly in and out of it. You rise from your seat and open your eyes, smacking Luna's hands from your shoulders. The blonde backs up at your rapid movement, stumbling until her legs hit the chair behind her, forcing her to sit down. Her eyes are wide, in fright.

"No," you say much more softly, your chest rising up and down, not meaning to scare her. "Stop this Luna. You are delusional."

She looks like she wants to say more but her mouth opens and shuts like a fish and nothing comes out. Her hands claw on her arm rests and then shutting her mouth close for the final time she rises up out of her seat and runs out the door. You want to call her back, to calm down her freak out but right now you yourself are too freaked out by her behavior to do so.

So you don't stop her. You know she will come back.

But she doesn't. Not today.

And not for the rest of the week.

You frantically call her home phone, her cell phone. You even go looking for her at her house, but no one ever answers and you are certainly not the type to go breaking into someone's house. You figure she will eventually have to show up.

This concern over Luna stays with you for the rest of the week and for the rest of next week too, as her empty therapy time slot remains. You kept the packet, wanting to be rid of it but being unable to do so until you can discuss at length why she included these dark images in her work. It is unlike anything else she has written. And as you go back and reread it, unable to help yourself, you feel a nagging sensation in the back of your head. Luna said that the girl from the trio of heroes was you...on a whim you decide to go out and buy all the Hogwarts books. There are about four of them now, the last one being released recently.

Dumbledore greets you as you enter the familiar bookstore. "Hermione. Good to see you. And without unpleasant company." He is wiping at the top of the glass counter on which the register stands on.

"Uh yea," that light barb catches you off guard. You forgot that Bellatrix had practically trashed Albus' place last time she was here. You had sent him a check for reparation money but it seemed he was still a bit salty about it.

"Did she not want to come throw some books around this time?" Albus looks up, his tone nice but his words sharp.

"No," you say, unused to seeing this side of Albus. "I'm here for some Hogwart's books. Where can I find them?" You don't want to chit chat with him anymore if he is going to be this negative.

"Upstairs, children's section, left bookshelf," Albus rattles off, pointing a finger up to where the section is. You nod your head in thanks and move on, finding the book series quite easily.

When Luna had said that one of the main character's was supposed to represent you, you felt curiosity at this. You wondered what adventures she had written you in, what kind of character traits she portrayed you with. You buy the books and head home, intent on reading them. You do some minor work on one of your patient files first, organizing this thing and that thing and by the time you finish it is time for bed and you take the first book of the Hogwarts series up with you for some light reading before you turn in for the night. You've just changed into your pj's and slid under the covers, cracking the cover open when the swish of your window opening tells you you are not alone. Slowly you turn your head to the right, eyes going wide. "Bellatrix," you say, snapping the book closed.

The dark clad woman is slinging one leg over the windowsill, half of her body already in. "Hello Hermione," she breathes, smiling mischievously. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, you're not," you say, a bit breathless from the shock of seeing her.

"Good, because I was hoping of continuing what we started all that time ago," she slides into the room, closing the window behind her.

"Uh," your brain and mouth collectively decide to shut down as you are assaulted by a strong sense of arousal. You know why Bellatrix made this trip and your body is very happy and appreciative of it.

Bellatrix sits down on the bed next to you, one hand making circles on the sheets. "I never thought I would see the day where you were speechless, but here you are," she teases.

"You just caught me off guard," you finally gain control of your tongue, your brain whirling to life. "I wasn't expecting you. How did you sneak out?"

Bellatrix shrugs like that isn't important. "I told you I would find a way to be with you. Although it did take a long time, I finally managed to give Cissy the slip. She's been hounding me more and more lately. But a good old sleeping pill makes wonders happen."

"Bellatrix," you hiss out, a bit scandalized by what she has done. "You drugged your sister so you could sneak out?"

"No, I drugged her so I could see you," Bellatrix tsks as if that should be obvious and leans closer to you. That line should not work but it does and your heart does a little jump in it's chest. Her close proximity to you also aids in increasing your heart rate.

"I still do not approve," you reprimand her but your words lack any real bite. You are too absorbed in the way her eyes are half lidded now and focused on your lips. She tears them away when she realizes she is looking too long and takes the book casually out of your slackened hands, settling down to lay against the pillows. "The Hogwarts series? Really? How old are you?"

"I was merely curious about them. One of my patients writes this book series and I wanted to see what is in inside them."

"And? Are they good?" Bellatrix asks as she flips through the pages, not really reading what is written on them.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't gotten to starting the book, because _someone_ here interrupted me." At this you pluck the book from her hands and look down at her, smirking.

She smirks back up. "Admit it, you'd much rather read me than some children's book."

She's right. "And what would I be reading?" you ask coyly, putting the book by your table lamp before turning on your side so you could look at her eye to eye. She turns inwards as well. "Very, very, mature content," she says slowly, running a hand from your neck to your hair, picking up a strand of brown hair. Goosebumps trail after her touch. "Are you sure your reading levels are high enough to comprehend me?"

You let a cocky smile grace your lips before you toss the sheets you are under to the side, hovering above her on your elbows. "Give me some time and you'll see for yourself." Then you press your lips to her eager ones. You think back to Luna's violent story about Bellatrix and want to erase those words with the words the real Bellatrix speaks. Replace her heinous actions with softer more amorous actions of the real one.

She responds by running her hands up your back and to your neck, pulling you in closer. Quickly the kiss turns deeper, her mouth opening to let your tongue in. The two of you kiss like this for a while, your breaths becoming more shallow, your bodies more heated. Your hands roam to the hem of her shirt and she pulls her mouth away to hiss out, "unbutton my pants."

"You don't want me to fondle your-"

"Skip the foreplay and just fuck me," she orders.

"Someone's needy today," you chuckle huskily although your groin throbs in resonance with her words. It's only been a short while but you're worked up as well. You blame her irresistible devilish nature for the amount of wetness between your thighs right now.

Bellatrix bucks up her hips to remind you of her demand and you chuckle once more before you begin to lay hot open mouthed kisses on her neck, while one of your hands eases it's way past her pants and to her panties. She's hot there and wet, and when you press on through the fabric of the underwear she squirms her thighs together and tightens her hold on your shoulder. You begin to rub slowly between her legs and a little moan escapes her mouth, one that you quickly cover up with your mouth before you resume kissing her with wet kisses down the side of her neck and up the other side, her chin and her jawline before placing a singular kiss on her full lips.

"Hermione," she nearly whines. "Don't tease me. I've been waiting so long for this."

"As have I," you tell her, whispering this in her ear and delighting in the little shivers it elicits in her. "So, just like with a good book I enjoy, I'm going to take this slow and savor every last word you mutter." At least you intend to go slow, but even with your experience in bed with women you still want to taste all of her now, take her to the highest high. You want to be able to get off too, the urge to grind on her thigh too tempting right now.

At your words her forehead comes up and knocks into yours, snapping your head back and you blink away the stars formed by the pain, and as you do that Bellatrix grabs you and flips you around so now she is on top. "If you're not going to fuck me, then I guess I'll have to fuck you into doing it." Her words are hot and laced with passion and her mouth bruises yours as you two kiss. You want to argue against her but your tongue is occupied right now.

The kiss doesn't last long as she pulls away so that she can pull your top off, you helping by lifting up your arms. She tosses it to the side somewhere and takes to covering your chest with kisses, sucking on the skin above your collarbone before moving on, trying to cover the most amount of skin as quickly as possible. This makes you groan out loud and you toss your head back as your spine tingles in pleasure. Her lips however, stay out of reach of your breasts, the nubs hard and begging to be touched. "Bellatrix.. _.now_ whose the tease," you pant out, and you pull her head up so that you can look her in the eye.

She smirks at you. "Hmm, don't like it when the tables are turned?"

You merely pull her up for another kiss, one that she gives eagerly, and making sure that she is fully focused on it, you wrap your legs around her waist and flip her over so that now you are back on top.

"Mpmh!" is her indignant cry when she realizes what you have done but before she can flip you, your hand is in her pants, rubbing away hard. A moan leaves her mouth now and she mumbles out a "not fair," at your tactic. Yet she doesn't fight this, letting your fingers slip under her underwear for some much needed relief.

She's wet and your fingers easily slide in. You wiggle them around inside and she twitches and moans some more as her legs open wider to give you more room to work with. Slowly, very slowly, you begin to move them in and out, and her eyes flutter open and shut each time you slide all the way in. "You're still being a tease," she manages to get out. "What happened to fucking me?"

"I am," you grin sultry and then give a sharp twist, curling up your fingers.

It catches her off guard and you can tell by the way she lets out a heady moan into the crook of your neck, her breath warm. Her one arm is holding onto your shoulder. Her other gripping the back of your neck. You can barely turn your head to look away from her but you don't want to anyways. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips look even plumper than usual. She bites them every now and then when a strong tremor of pleasure fills her body. The sight of her makes your own heart beat faster and this time you decide to just give her what she wants.

You pick up your pace, Bellatrix's hips picking up the pace as well so that her hips can chase after your finger's. Her hold on you tightens as she presses her face close to your neck, trying to cover up the moans that leave her mouth in an ever increasing amount. But you can still hear them and they vibrate against your own throat, each moan making you want to groan in answer. Their getting shorter too, more breathy. She's getting close to cumming but you don't want her to just yet.

You completely remove your hand from inside her and she let's out a whine, her nails turning painful in her hold on you as punishment. "Hermione, don't you dare stop now."

In answer you slam your finger back in and curl them, the rapid motion sending her over the edge, her thighs clamping down on your hand. Her walls squeeze around your fingers while her fingers squeeze around you and you know there will be bruises there tomorrow. But you don't care. You finally got another chance to be with Bellatrix.

As she loosens up, having ridden the final wave of her orgasm, she pulls you into a lazy kiss. "You need to teach me how to do that, so I can do it to you. Online articles only help to a certain extent." Her tone is soft as she pulls away from the kiss, her hands warm on your cheeks.

"Do you want to learn how to now?" you ask, your own insides throbbing in need. You could feel that the wetness had spread down your thighs, soaking through your thin pjs bottoms.

"Show me," she whispers and gives you another kiss before you separate from her so that you can take off your shorts. Now you are almost all naked, save for your soaked underwear. Bellatrix sits up at this, watching you intently. In her eyes is hunger, hunger for your body and you enjoy it, soaking it in. You spread your legs in front of her so that she can see what it is you're going to do.

"First you rub through the underwear, to make sure your partner is wet enough for entrance. If their not, then you can keep rubbing to get it like that," you explain, using the hand you used on Bellatrix on yourself. This makes you more excited and you bite your lip, needing to remain composed enough so that you can speak properly. Your pointer and middle finger trace over the underwear, but it's plain to see you are wet enough and do not actually need to do this.

"Then you put your fingers in and well, the rest is hard to explain. There are different parts to hit that make it more pleasurable but it's really up to the person you are with and what they like. It takes time to get it right," you explain as you use both hands to slide down your soaked panties down your legs. Bellatrix watches intently, like a good pupil in school and she doesn't blanch back when you take her left hand in your right. "Which hand is your dominate hand?"

"The right one," she says when she realizes you've asked her a question, so entranced is she by the glistening wetness between your legs.

You switch the hand in your grip and then bring the pads of her fingers to your slit. "You can start by rubbing," you guide her hand up and down, your moisture catching on her finger tips. "And then entrance," your sentences are getting shorter as your excitement mounts. Directing her hand you let her fingers slide inside you, all the way to her knuckles and can't stop the moan that bubbles up from your throat. It feels so good to have her inside of you and you move her hand back and forth, letting her hit your walls at different angles. Each touch brings more moans forth and your eyes begin to shutter shut.

"Like this?" Bellatrix asks in an impossibly soft voice and begins to move her hand by herself. You let your hand drop away, her no longer needing it to guide her. She clutches your shoulder with her left hand to anchor you while her right hand goes in and out, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. She's using more force than you were and it makes your toes curl in pleasure.

You nod your head at her question and tangle your hands in the front of her shirt, pulling her close so that the two of you can kiss. But your kisses are sloppy and uncoordinated and so you give up trying to make out with her and settle for resting your forehead on her's, breathing in the same air as her until your orgasm hits you.

You slump over in her arms, breaths ragged and heart pounding in your chest. You feel light headed and as you slowly come back to your surroundings you allow her to tug you into bed, covering you with the sheets.

"You did good on your first time," you tell her, letting your hand play with her curls as she snuggles up to you, nuzzling your neck.

"I'm glad I did," she murmurs, her voice low. Then she raises the hand she used to touch you with and gives it a lick. "Delicious. I can't wait to try more."

The rest of the night the two of you spend in each other's arms, Bellatrix nearly melting in your hold on her. She looks so calm and peaceful and you want nothing more to see her like this all the time.

Together the both of you drift off to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 29: War of Hearts_

* * *

I can't help but be wrong in the dark  
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts  
I can't help but want oceans to part  
Cause I'm overcome in this war of hearts- Ruelle, War of Hearts

* * *

The next morning you wake up to empty bed sheets. The place where Bellatrix has slept is cold but her scent lingers and you roll over and press the pillow where she rested to your face, sniffing in her delectable scent of sandalwood and heavy spice. You wish she hadn't left but she had to in order to get back to her sister's mansion before the woman awoke and noted her disappearance. You crave the warmth of her body and wonder when she will visit. Will it be in two weeks time again? Or will it be sooner? You hope the latter is true.

Getting out of bed you slowly pop your bones, stretching your arms over your head as you let a huge yawn out of your mouth. It's a Sunday today and you wonder what you should do with your time. Hmm. Perhaps you can quell the issue with Ron and how he wishes to pursue you? You set about texting him through the number he gave you and do not have to wait long to hear back with an eager response from him. You set up a date, the both of you settling on going to a restaurant for tapas before the evening hits.

It's already two in the afternoon- you really slept in today, although it had to do with how a certain someone kept you up late all last night. After the both of you had finished your first round, Bellatrix had insisted on more, claiming she needed to memorize every inch of your flesh before she left so she could have something to tide her over for the long wait until she next saw you. That had then lead to her licking a path from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts before she had taken to exploring the apex of your thighs very, very, thoroughly.

She'd never been with another woman before, but she was a quick learner and eager to taste you and please you so it wasn't long before she had figured out what made you cry the loudest from pleasure. Overall the night had been very busy. And you had noticed something. Bellatrix never removed her shirt once and you had a hunch as to why. The woman claimed that she didn't like foreplay but you knew it had to do with the scars that littered her upper top. The woman still felt self conscious of them and you knew you had to do something to get her past that doubt so that you could appreciate her body more. And damn did she have a great figure for someone her age.

You can't help but smile and blush as you think of the long night the both of you shared, taking turns with tasting and exploring each others bodies. The both of you didn't go to sleep until three in the morning, only then curling around each other protectively while the both of you slumbered, worn out.

You decide that since you still have a bit of time before your impromptu date with Ron you'll do some painting. You make some coffee for yourself first and then change into your painter's clothes, getting out an easel, canvas, and some brushes and paint. The colors you select are red's, blues, and green's and you decide to go with a more abstract work of art this week. Usually you paint realistic interpretations of natural scenes, but today you want to convey the feelings that are swarming inside you, crowding your head and heart.

You paint for a hour or so, the work going by slowly as you purposefully put a dab of color there or a slash of paint over there. Eventually you leave the work unfinished, needing to go upstairs and change for your date with Ron. When five pm hits you roll out in your car, parking on the sidewalk by the Spanish restaurant and going inside to where the red haired man is already seated at a two seat table.

"I hope you don't mind, I ordered some appetizers for us to share," he says as way of greeting as you sit down in front of him. He's wearing a nice buttoned shirt, the sleeves rolled back and tie in place. It also looks like he shaved to make an effort to look more presentable and you want to laugh at how much effort he's putting in looking more put together since it is the two of you now. Usually he was one for wearing rumpled shirts and slacks, letting stubble cover his face and only shaving it when he felt it had grown too long.

"I don't mind," you say breezily, picking up the menu on the table. "Did you already pick what you're having for the main dish?"

"I looked it over and there are some things I'm interested in having but I wasn't quite sure," he responds with, propping open his own menu.

The two of you discuss the menu and the food offered there, snacking on the appetizers once they come. The whole time you pay careful attention to any openings in the conversation that occur, hoping that you will find a way to edge into the talk that you have a 'boyfriend'. The topic of conversation moves to how the weekend was spent, to how the family bar is doing. "Very well," Ron laughs, happy to see his parents being able to rake in more money. "We're attracting more people but I think the twins want to remodel the place soon so we might actually close down for a month or so while repairs take place."

From there the main dishes arrive and the conversation hits a lull as you both dig into the warm food. When that finishes the two of you contemplate over what dessert to have and you feel a bit irritated that you still haven't managed to come up with someway to include Harry, your fake boyfriend, into this conversation. You're about to wing it and just blurt it out when Ron speaks up. "Anything new in the field of Psychology?"

You try to hide the small smile that hits your lips. You can work with this. "Actually, yes. There was a conference that I went to." From there you go on talking about the conference and how you meet this smart researcher there named Harry Potter. You go on at length and gush about it, hamming it up once or twice just so that you can get the point across to Ron. The red haired man tries to keep his face neutral and to sound happy for you but you can sense his disquiet from across the table.

"I didn't know you had a boyfriend," he plays with the knife in his hand, twirling it around his fingers. His eyes cannot reach yours.

You speak casually. "Yes, well it was a fairly new development. Although to be fair I've always been doing casual dates with people from around town. I've just never meet anyone I liked enough to settle into a long term relationship with. What about you Ron? Are you dating someone?" You add this, hoping to see what he will say. Will he say he likes you, hoping to convince your mind to him, or will he say no one, in this way giving up on you.

"Uh, no, I'm not," he stumbles, not expecting you to question him. "Too busy with, you know, school stuff, to uh, get into a relationship."

"But do you have someone you like perhaps?" You take a sip of your drink, watching his face closely as he answers this. A brief flash of pain covers his face before it goes away. "Uh, no. Not really. I liked someone but they like someone else, so..." he trailed off and looked off to the side, trying to be nonchalant about all this while taking a sip of his drink. He looks uncomfortable and you feel bad for doing this but you had to crush his hopes about dating you.

"That's a shame," you tell him. "Do you need help maybe talking to them, getting it straightened out?"

He quickly shakes his head no. "Look, the dessert is here!" he looks relieved that it is and quickly digs into his flan so that he won't have to talk to you on this topic anymore. The rest of dinner is a tad awkward and you don't try to force conversation when you see that it won't work, only serving to make Ron more put out.

The tab comes and you split it. "Dinner was fun."

"Yea," he agrees, a touch sullen.

"We should do it another time," you press on, eager to hear him say no, because then that means he will have more or less given up on you.

"Yea," he says noncommittally and you shrug. You suppose this is the best he will do.

"See you around," you wave your hand in goodbye to him and he gives you a half hearted wave in response.

Feeling like that date was more or less successful in terms of rejecting him, you drive back home and stretch yourself out on your couch, pulling out the packet that Luna gave you. You still haven't heard anything from the girl and it is beginning to worry you. What could have possibly made her stay away? Had you badly scared her to the point that she no longer wished to see you? But you wanted to apologize to her about your lack of propriety. And you couldn't do it if she was hiding.

 _"Wake up! Wake up!"_ Her words rang in your ears and again some weird emotion filled your chest but you couldn't tell what it was. Sighing, you put the packet back into your work bag and took out a book to read instead. You were ten pages in when your cell phone went off. It was a text message from Ginny.

 **Ron's sad. Did you do it?**

 **Yes.** You type back.

 **How did it go? I want every last detail.**

You briefly summarize the events of the dinner and wait for Ginny to respond.

 **That wasn't so bad. I'm glad it didn't end in name calling and stuff :)**

Not being able to think of anything better to write, you put your phone aside and return to your book. This time you only make it five pages in when your phone rings.

You pick it up, your brows furrowing when you see whose calling. It's Narcissa. What does she want this time?

"Hello?" you ask as pleasantly as you can, your last exchange making it hard for you to be honestly nice to her.

"Hermione, I hope I am not bothering you," Narcissa starts and you roll your eyes. _You're always bothering me,_ you want to snap at her but restrain yourself. "No, not at all," you assure her.

"Perfect. Then I have time to ask you something."

 _What?_ You prop your hand up on the armrest of the couch and hold up your head with it. "And what is it that you would like to ask?"

"It is regarding about whether you would allow me to have the pleasure of your company."

The air comes out of your lungs in one big whoosh of disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"It would be for tea of course. And some light afternoon snacks. Not a therapy session," Narcissa clarified.

"Oh, well, I must say I'm a bit caught off guard by this request," you stammer out, unable to hide your shock too well. "I was under the impression you didn't want me to influence Bellatrix negatively, with my beliefs that she isn't crazy." This you can't help but be a bit bitter at.

"While I do not think you a suitable therapist, it would never hurt Bellatrix to have a friend to talk to. Under supervision. My supervision."

You see what this is- a supervised baby sitting. You grit your teeth, unwilling to let your tongue go spouting off words that you will regret. You take a breath to suck down the sharp accusations that threaten to spill out. Why does Narcissa want you to do this?

"Narcissa, excuse me if I am unable to keep up with this, but why-I- I just don't understand your motives at all. You want me to stay away from Bellatrix but then you turn on a dime and then want me to spend time with her. I don't follow your train of thoughts at all."

There is silence on the other end and you wonder if she has hung up. Just when you are about to ask if anyone else is on the other end she lets out a long sigh. "I can see that my actions have confused and aggravated you and for that I apologize. It simply is that...I'm simply having a rough time with you doctor. You see, no other therapist has done as much good as you have for Bellatrix. You managed to break through some of her invisible barriers and I can see the change. But...I'm afraid that you might be doing too good of a job. That you're giving her too much hope and that in this way too much of a good thing can be a bad thing. She might go around thinking she is normal and that her vile and violent actions and words are entirely normal whereas they are not, thus leading her to take part in them more. So I hope you can see where I am coming from now." Narcissa says this all quickly as if she is almost ashamed that she has to say this.

You sit there silently as you digest this. It makes sense. Her erratic back and forth, pulling you this and that way. "Narcissa, are you afraid to have your sister get better?" you venture to ask, feeling you might as well get out all this uncertainty that stands in the way now that you have already gotten one truth out of her.

There is more silence as Narcissa composes a suitable answer. "I suppose I am," she admits at last, a painful truth. "I never thought of this before now. I always saw her as someone I had to protect and fix, especially since I blamed myself partially for her unstable state. It was my fault for letting her get hurt by...by the dogs. And for leaving her with our father while I saved myself by getting married. It was...our childhood household was terrible. Our father was truly sick and I do not speak of this with anyone, but I will entrust you with the tidbit of our past though it pains me to recall it. Our father, Cygnus had dogs. These terrible dark brutes," Narcissa's cool voice wavers a bit and you cut in, wanting to spare the woman from recalling such things.

"It is quite alright. I know of the dogs. Bellatrix and I talked about them at length."

"Then I am glad I will not have to recall them to you." Narcissa clears her throat gratefully. Her voice returns to it's normal strength. "But I carry that strong guilt with me and I suppose what started out as wanting to aid my sister and protect her grew into a sort of twisted help. Now I am afraid to let her be by herself. Afraid that she will cause harm to herself, that she will no longer need my help. The social customs do not matter much for me. They never did, but I claimed they did."

You are surprised at Narcssia's confession. She's basically self analyzed her thought process, her underlying and subconscious ways of thinking that affect her actions and morals.

"When did you come to realize this?" you ask, wanting to learn more.

"Ever since a little while back, back when you first came around to help Bellatrix. All the times we've gone into conflict with one another it made me think about why I was pushing you back, yet asking you for help all the time. I think I was in conflict. Some part of me wanted to have your help. And other parts did not." There is a long tired sigh on the other end. "I'm glad I was able to realize this, thus I would appreciate it if you could come over to the mansion to spend time with my sister. It doesn't have to be as a therapist, but as a person. A friend. I know your positivity can help her recover. And I truly do want her to get better. Yet, I am scared of her doing so."

"Then if you will let me, I would like to aid you in overcoming this fear you have," you offer, waiting with baited breath as to what the blonde will say. Will she reject the offer?

"I would...like that I think," she says uncertainty. "I hired you for my sister, but now it looks like you will be burdened to help me." There is a humorless laugh at the end.

"Then I shall be there to help."

"Does tomorrow after work work for you?" Narcissa suggests and you nod your head yes.

"I'll see you then," you promise and hang up.

* * *

Monday afternoon finds you standing outside the Malfoy mansions giant doors and you walk in when the butler opens the door. Narcissa is waiting for you on top of the stairs in the grand lobby, back straight and hands clasped in front of her.

"I'm glad you could make it doctor Granger. Before we lend into therapeutic discussion, would you like to have some tea and snacks? And then we could decide upon a method of payment and a time period?"

"Certainly," you hand your bag and light jacket over to the butler who takes it to be hung up somewhere. You climb up the stairs following Narcissa into a room off to the side of the second floor hallway. Inside you can see that a small coffee table has been set up with several different types of cookies and biscuits on plates along with a set of fine china tea cups that awaited to be filled with scalding liquid.

"Please sit," Narcissa indicates the plush blue couch which you sit on, directly in front of her. The woman takes the tea pot and pours herself some tea. Setting it down she then adds a cube or two of sugar before mixing it in.

"Will Bellatrix be joining us?" you ask, pouring your own cup full of tea. "You did originally ask me to come over to spend some time with her, as a friend," you clarify so that Narcissa will not think you want to see Bellatrix for other reasons, although they swim through your head right now, as do images of her full red lips and dark curls.

"She will be eventually. Although I figured we should get the business portion of this meeting out of the way."

"Of course," you nod your head and blow on your cup to cool it down. Narcissa sets down her cup of tea and reaches for a snack. "I would like you to become my therapist. It would seem I need help in overcoming the blockade that prevents me from wanting to help my sister honestly. Who knows how much damage and hurt it has already wrought upon the relationship the two of us bear."

"When would you like to hold your sessions? I have free slots on Friday's and Tuesday's in the afternoons right before I finish work."

"That sounds perfect. I do not exactly have much in the way of work. I stick to interior decorating for friends and acquaintances but as you can surmise that work is not too taxing, so I do have much free time." Narcissa daintily bites into the cookie, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews on it before speaking again. "Did you bring the contract so I may look it over?"

"I did not," you admit, hazarding a sip of the tea. It is hot but not too unbearable. "I thought it would be better to do so at the office and then jump right into a therapy session then."

"That is reasonable," Narcissa nods her head. "Are we concluded with the arrangements now?"

"We are. It's a quick process, especially since you already know most of the logistics from when you signed Bellatrix for therapy." You rise from your seat, figuring the meeting is over and it is time for you to go back. It seemed there wouldn't be time for you to see the eldest sister. And while you were glad you would be able to help Narcissa and make sense of her erratic actions towards you, you still didn't feel comfortable with her given how much back and forth the two of you had had. She also slapped Bellatrix last time you were here, something that you will not easily get over. You should ask Bellatrix about that next time you see her. Last night would have been a good time but the two of you were otherwise occupied.

"Do not leave yet. I was thinking I could take this opportunity to give you a tour of the mansion and then we could meet up with Bellatrix and have a light dinner," the woman also stood up in an effort to get you to stop from leaving.

"Okay," you nod your head, glad that you will be able to see Bellatrix.

You follow the blond haired woman as she takes you down the stairs and into the entrance hallway. "There are a lot of facts I could impart to you about this place, however, it would take hours. My mansion is like a museum. Every painting or statue or even the wallpaper and the tiles we walk upon come with some sort of history attached to them. Why, that painting over there has a long history of being on the black market, due to being stolen over and over by thieves." Narcissa points to the painting on the wall to her right and you look at it. It's a nice piece of work, the figures emotions in it captured perfectly. It is a bit too dark for your tastes, too many shadows obscuring the background of the picture.

The blonde haired woman than takes you on a long walk, stopping to point out a painting or tapestry here or there. You nod your head and comment on this and that so she knows you are listening. You can't help but feel like a little child whose on a school trip to the museum. Narcissa is coming off a bit condescending here and you suppose it has something to do with the way she is flaunting her money and her family connections. And beside, you have some background knowledge on art history so you know the art style and background of some of the art she showcases so you feel like it is redundant to have her explain this all to you.

At the end of the tour she takes you to the greenhouse. The last time you were here was when Bellatrix lead you on a scavenger hunt through the house so you could find her during Draco's birthday party. But you pretend that you haven't been here before and let your eyes get big in wonder.

Narcissa then leads you through the greenhouse explaining the story behind certain flowers. When that finishes you and her go back into the main portion of the house. "Did you enjoy the tour?" she asks, appraising you coolly to see if she has impressed you.

"I did. I had no idea you collected such things."

"I like to be cultured, doctor," is Narcissa's haughty response. The two of you have drawn to a patio table on the porch. The table is set with gleaming silver wear and a blue tablecloth. The table is made for three and one of the occupants is already sitting there, playing with the napkin and folding it into many different shapes.

Bellatrix looks up when the two of you enter and gives the napkin some rest. "About damn time the two of you came. I was just about to leave, you've taken so long." She snorts angrily at this but you can sense no real anger in her words and hold back a smile that wants to worm it's way unbidden to your lips. In fact, under her angry facade you can tell that she's glad to see you too. "Good afternoon, Bellatrix," you greet, making sure to take the seat in front of her so that you will not be sitting next to her. You don't want to give her sister the impression the two of you are too close.

Narcissa takes a seat by Bellatrix's right and unfolds the napkin and places it on her lap. As soon as she is seated some butlers come from where they have been standing by the sides of the wall, trays of food in their hands. "Bellatrix behave. Is that the way you treat your friend?" Narcissa reprimands as one of the butler's sets down a bowl of orange and thick looking soup on your plate.

Bellatrix merely snorts in retort and looks down at her bowl unappetizingly. "This crap again?"

"Pumpkin soup is very delicious. And good for you. If you don't want to eat it than don't ruin someone else's taste buds," Narcissa is put out by her sister's words and you chime in make sure that she knows you haven't had your appetite ruined. "I enjoy pumpkin soup. It's one of my favorites." You raise a spoonful to your mouth once you've been provided a spoon by the butlers who now done, stand off to the side again, silent and awaiting orders.

You are indifferent to the taste of the soup but you don't want to fall to Bellatrix's taunts and speaking of taunts, she's doing so right now. "Say doctor, wouldn't there be other things that taste better that you would much rather eat?" The way she says it, head propped up in her chin, finger of her free hand tracing the rim of her water glass, makes you flush and you choke on your mouthful of soup. You turn to the side, napkin to your face as you try to clear your throat and regain some breath. Bellatrix chuckles in amusement at this while Narcissa picks up her glass and twirls the stem between her hands.

"Miss Granger, are you alright?" her blue eyes hold back the butler who stepped forward in assistance once she sees that you've recovered quickly from the coughing fit. Your face is a bright red and you give Bellatrix a glare. You want to tell her to shut up. Was she trying to get the both of you found out? She needed to stop this blatant flirting every time you came over. "I'm fine," you assure. "I merely chose the wrong moment to reply to Bellatrix and the soup went down the wrong way. But to address Bellatrix's burning question, I do have foods that I find highly tasty. Pizza and wings combined together is one of my guilty pleasures."

"Is that your only guilty pleasure?" Bellatrix cuts in before her sister can add her opinion on what she thinks of your greasy food choice.

You take a sip of water to help calm your flush and lean back cockily in your chair. It seems she wants to play a game. Then you shall play it. But play it to win. "No. I must admit I have other guilty pleasures too. But then again, doesn't everyone? Sometimes the most forbidden of things can be the most intriguing, the thing that captures our heart and soul. And body." You keep your eyes trained on her as you say this, hoping to fluster her. "For example I enjoy a good and proper exercise." Bellatrix arches a brow but let's you go on. If she wants to flirt then at least you're going to let her know what kind of things you enjoy.

"I can work out for long hours, even into the night and I don't mind if it makes me hurt, or if I wake up with bruises the next day. As long as it satisfies my bodies needs." You can see a light flush on her cheeks and can tell she's gotten the message. "I can often hold up for long time periods although I don't look like it." You know she will definitely want to do something about it next time.

"I see," she says softly and takes up her own glass so that she may take a sip. "Do you use any...gear to help with the exercises?"

"I prefer to go all natural, but I suppose I can make exceptions," you answer, lidding your eyes.

"I didn't know you were into exercise," Narcissa says, confused by the intensity of the stares between you and her sister, and uncomfortable with being left out of the conversation.

"Hermione is very _much_ into exercise. I may just have to ask her to help me get more into shape as well," Bellatrix coos, the corner of her lips coming up.

"That would be nice of her to do so. But I'm sure Miss Granger has other things to do," Narcissa tells Bellatrix and you have to hold back the laughter that wants to erupt from you at the thought of Narcissa actively allowing you to sleep with her sister as a form of exercise. Bellatrix too looks to be struggling to hold in her amusement, her lips tightening to hold it back in.

"Dear sister," she pats her hand on Narcissa's. "Maybe you should get some help working out as well. It certainly helps with attitude and health. That's why Hermione over here is so even tempered."

The rest of the meal is spent discussing various forms of working out, such as yoga or Pilates, that the blonde haired woman could take part in. When she asks for a recommendation on the type of work out's you do, you merely shrug and answer that it's more what you feel like doing on a certain day, on what your body feels okay with doing. The sexual undertone is lost on her, something that only you and Bellatrix are privy too.

Seven pm rolls around and you decide that you should head back. You've spent enough time as it is in the woman's presence and need to go back home to get some work down with your newest files. "Thank you for the meal, and tour," you thank Narcissa as she leads you back to the front door, one of her many butler's waiting with your coat and purse. Bellatrix trails after you two, a bit sullen. You didn't manage to fluster her too much during dinner like you had hoped, but you did surprisingly manage to shut her up for a couple of minutes when you rubbed your leg against hers under the table. She had been so surprised that in order to cover up her squeak she nearly shoved the whole glass of water down her throat. As it was she only managed to spill half the drink down her shirt, leaving her choking for breath as the rest of the water went down the wrong pipe. That had been funny to watch and it was even funnier when her sister scolded her for it, complaining that she was such a child that she could not even drink properly at the table.

Bellatrix ignored her sister's comments as she dabbed at her shirt with a dry napkin, all the while shooting you nasty glares when her sister wasn't looking. You knew she was planning revenge on you so you smartly adjusted your legs out of the way of her reach. Your hindsight paid off when she went to kick you but instead got her sister, who immediately reproached her. This time you couldn't help from chuckling at Bellatrix's misfortune and covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the sounds coming from it. Luckily Narcissa was too busy with being disapproving at Bellatrix that she didn't notice you having a laugh at both of their expanse. The rest of the meal poor Bellatrix had to sit well behaved while she stewed at being unable to get back at you.

Really, she was like a child.

"It was my pleasure to have you over. I enjoyed your company as did Bellatrix," Narcissa says, elbowing Bellatrix who snaps to the present conversation, tearing her eyes away from where they were roving over the wallpaper. "Yea. Nice of you to drop by," she grunts out and you know you should be worried that she will find a way to get back at you for getting her in trouble but right now you are not worried.

"Till next time," you say and leave the mansion, heading for your car.

You arrive home and get straight to work, reading over case files and marking off things that you will need to address in further therapy sessions. Time goes by and before you know it, it is two in the morning and time for bed. But when you enter the bedroom, freshly showered and changed in your pjs, you find Bellatrix on your bed. She's lounging in all black clothing on the white sheets, sort of like an ink spill on parchment and just as damaging to it as she was about to be to you. You can sense a dangerous energy around her and she eyes you silently as you walk in.

"Bellatrix, what are you doing here?" you ask, and you would be lying if you said your heart didn't beat faster at the sight of the woman. All that flirting at the dinner table had made you excited. In answer she pulls out a pair of handcuffs from her front pocket, the metal hoops glinting in the low light of the table lamp. "You didn't think I would just let you get away with troubling me at dinner?" she asked, getting up from the bed and taking measured steps towards you. When she reaches you she lets her hands slip up and under your thin white top and you shiver as you can feel the light scratch of her nails on your skin. "You like it rough?" she brought her head closer to yours and you thought she was going to kiss you but instead she let her lips graze your jawline, rubbing up and down in rhythm with her hands as they rose up higher and higher on your back until they rested on your shoulders.

"You want me to mark you? Litter your skin with bruises and bites and scratches?" as she says this she rakes her nails down your whole back and you hiss at the pain. At the same time she bites you under the jawline, a tentative bite, testing how hard she can go.

"Yes. I do like to get wild once in a while," you confirm for her. "So are you going to make good use of those handcuffs or are they just for show?"

She pulls away from you at the taunt, a smirk on her lips. "Impatient, are we? I don't think that's going to happen for a while. You made me get in trouble at the dinner. How are you going to make up for that?" She arches a brow at you, twirling the handcuffs on her pointer finger as she steps away from you and stands by the window, one hand on her hip.

A seductive smile slips onto your face. "I thought you'd never ask."


	30. Chapter 30

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 30: We Don't Sleep at Night_

* * *

When the sun goes down  
All our sins collide  
When the moon comes out  
I'm a devil inside  
Gonna go all night  
We don't sleep at night

* * *

"The handcuffs were meant for you, not for me," Bellatrix tries to sound angry but the effect is lost among the half moans and gasps emitting from her mouth. She's handcuffed to the headboard, naked from the waist down, the metal cuffs rattling involuntarily as her hands twitch and twist with each new spike in pleasure.

"It was too good of an idea for me to pass up on," you pull your head out from between her thighs to answer this, shooting her a mischievous grin as you lick your lips, slowly relishing in the way her lust darkened eyes follow your tongue. "But if you want I can stop now and we can watch TV or something."

"No," she moans, her hips bucking in frustration at you having removed your mouth from where she needs it most.

"So I take it that you like it?" you ask playfully, rubbing your hands in circles on the outside of her thighs but not returning to your previous task.

"Hermione," she whines your name out, her hands tugging against her cuffs with the urge to bring your face right to her hot apex. When she can't move them she attempts to wrap her legs around you and prompt you into doing something. You merely grin at her frustrations and lay her legs flat, spreading them apart wider.

"I still haven't heard a yes or no," you say sternly, bringing your head down to lay hot kisses on her legs, trailing them up from her knee to just barely before her crotch, teasing her.

"Yes, yes, I like it," she snaps out frustrated. "But I'd like it more if you'd actually continue fucking me properly."

You chuckle at this before you finally bring your mouth back to where she wants it and lay a warm wet kiss there. There is a jerk of the cuffs in response to that, followed by a small moan. You begin to lick up and down, tasting and exploring her slit. Her breaths are becoming heavier now, her shirt clad chest rising up and down and her eyes fluttering shut. You pick up the pace and so do her breaths, moans coming forth more freely now. You can tell she is getting close. And so you pull back.

She let's out a loud groan, one of this displeasure this time. "Damn it Hermione, this is the third time in a row you've done this. Why won't you let me cum?"

"Do you want to cum that badly?" you ask innocently, pulling away from her thighs and climbing up on the bed so that you are now hovering over her.

She doesn't answer that, deferring to another accusation. "I thought you were supposed to be making up to me for dinner and not teasing me some more." You press a quick kiss to the scowl of her lips before you respond. "Don't worry, you'll be able to cum. As many times as you want to tonight," is your confident reply. "But I had to loosen you up a bit, and tie you up so that you wouldn't run away while I did this."

"Did what?" Bellatrix asks, not certain where this is going.

You give her a reassuring smile. "It won't hurt. And it'll be good for you." You'd thought of this before, the last time the two of you made love. And you had tried to think of a good time to introduce Bellatrix to this, but today when she had come in with the handcuffs you figured it'd be a good time as any and that you should probably take the chance because who knows when the next opportunity would arise.

"Is it...a strap on?" Bellatrix asked, a brow arched in confusion. "If you wanted to fuck me with one you didn't have to tie me up for it. I wouldn't be opposed to the idea. I was married to a man after all."

When you shake your head at this, she lowers her brow. "What do you have in mind? Is it a vibrator, a whip, some kinky kind of outfit, or some weird fetish like balloon popping." She sees that you're continually shaking your head no and she lets out a low growl of vexation. "Then what?"

"I didn't even know balloon popping was a fetish. What kind of websites do you visit?" you tease Bellatrix, running your hands through her dark curls and planting a kiss on her forehead which is wrinkled up from awaiting your answer. "But I digress," you say more seriously. "This isn't any of those things you mentioned. It's something else." At this you let your hands drift to the front of Bellatrix's black blouse and undo the first button there. She instantly tenses up and watches you with wary eyes, unbelieving that you are going to do what she thinks you are.

"I noticed that you don't like removing your shirt during sex. And I know why. I understand the reason why," at this you unbutton the second button and Bellatrix let's out a little frightened whimper from the back of her throat.

"You have scars there, but Bellatrix there is no need for you to be afraid of showing them. When I'm with you, I want to be with _all_ of you. The scars are part of who you are. They tell the world how brave you were as a little girl. Of the troubles you lived through." The third button snaps open. Only two more to go.

"But, they're ugly. I don't want them on my body and I don't want you to see them," her voice is soft, afraid of rejection. "You'll get disgusted during sex and then-"

"I won't," you say calmly and with as much affection in your voice as you can muster as you pop open the fourth button, your hands hesitating on the last one as she takes a sharp inhale of air. "I've already seen them in the light of day, it wouldn't change now. I already told you once before: that you are beautiful with or without scars. And I want you to see just how much I love them. For if the scars weren't here than you wouldn't be you. The scars make you special. So please, Bellatrix, let me show you how I love them."

You stare into her dark eyes and for a long time no one moves, neither of you blinking until at last she let's the breath from her chest go. "Fine." Said so soft you could almost mistake it for a breath, you let the last button free and push the two sides of her shirt down around her arms. She's wearing a black lace bra underneath, her generous breasts spilling out of it. In the dark of the room you can see the light shine of her scars, twisting their way up and down her flat abdomen, curving under her breasts and tickling the top of her collarbone. Gently you press your lips down to the scars and begin to kiss them, every single inch of them, starting from the bottom up. For a long time you can sense the tensed muscles under your kisses but by the time you make it to her collarbone, her breaths have gotten more ragged and her eyes half lidded. "Can I remove your bra?" you ask in a soft whisper and she simply nods her head. You unclasp it easily and finally get to see her breasts for the first time. Their big and soft and just beg to be licked.

"May I?" you ask, looking her into the eyes to confirm with her if this is okay. "Fine," she whispers out again and turns her head to the side as if embarrassed by all this. But you want her to look, to see how much you appreciate her scarred torso, so that she can get rid of the connotation that her upper body is shameful and unable to be appreciated by anyone. Because it's not the case.

"Look at me," you instruct her, using two fingers under her chin to drag her face to you. "I want you to see that I'm enjoying this. That this is real." She doesn't say anything so you hold her dark gaze for a few moment's before you place your lips around her nub. You begin to suck in earnest, letting out happy little moans, glad to be finally able to touch her breasts. With your hand you come up to play with her other nipple, satisfied to find it hard from arousal.

She's starting to let out little gasps now, and you let your lips curl into a brief smile, glad to see that she's able to finally loosen up a bit. You switch breasts, going to suck on her right one, letting your left hand come up to her left one. When you figure you've payed her chest enough attention, given the way her thighs are rubbing together underneath you, you move your mouth down lower again, kissing her scars on the way before you reach her slit. Fingers digging in sharply on her hipbones to hold her in place, you begin to lick in broad strokes, making sure to collect all the moisture leaking out. She tastes sweet as always and you want to taste more of her, so you let your tongue dip in, searching for all her sweet spots. Her moans are getting louder above you and she's trying to grind on your face to get more friction but your hands hold her in place, leaving half moon marks, and you let your tongue ravish her more aggressively. Then with one deep moan she orgasmed, thighs clenching around your head and handcuffs rattling loudly.

When she finally rode out the waves, her legs loosened around you, you pulled free, licking your lips for the last traces of her and clambered over on top of her to give her full lips a deep kiss. She was still too spent from her orgasm to fully return it but she was able to murmur out a demand. "Uncuff me, so that I can return the favor."

You don't need further prompting, sliding off the bed and grabbing the small key blindly from the night stand top before you go over and remove the cuffs. Once freed, Bellatrix sat up and rubbed her wrists.

"Did it hurt?" you ask, holding the objects in your hands and slightly feeling bad for it now. When it came time for intercourse you did tend to get a bit more aggressive of your demands and actions with your partner.

Bellatrix is quiet a moment before she gives you her trademark smirk. "You're about to find out." It only takes her a couple seconds to chain you to the headboard, and even less to rip off the top of your pjs, but that's because you're a very willing participant in all this, maybe even helping her speed up the process a bit. But instead of being flat on your back like she was, you're on your knees, hands holding onto the headboard and head pressed to the front. Bellatrix is behind you, her naked breasts warm on your naked back. She's playing with your tits, pinching your nips painfully. You gasp at the sensation, arching into her chest and moaning at the feel of her generous cleavage.

"You want it rough? I'll give you rough. You won't be able to walk right after I'm done with you." She growls, low into your ear the same time she swipes her tongue over it and pulls on your earlobe with her teeth. You shiver at her words, feeling yourself get even more weak at the idea of what is to come.

Bellatrix brings her mouth down lower, peppering your shoulders and neck with aggressive kisses, kisses that turn into bites. Hard enough to hurt, but light enough not to draw blood. "Bellatrix," you whine, your breath coming in gasps. You legs spread by themselves, begging for the older woman to explore the space between them. The space that is throbbing with need. You were already aroused from doing her and now her ministrations to you are turning you on even more.

"Hmmm, does Hermione want me to touch her here?" Bellatrix's hand slides over the crotch of your shorts and you can feel your muscles there twitch eagerly at her touch.

"Yes," you gasp out, trying to buck at her hand and she tantalizingly increases the pressure of her fingers there. You let out a needy moan, your head lowering and resting on your suspended forearms. She's so close to your throbbing heat, but yet so far, the thin fabric of your shorts and panties feeling like an impenetrable fortress right now.

"Too bad, you'll have to wait for it." You can't see Bellatrix's face from this position but you can sense the smirk in her voice. She's teasing you just like you teased her earlier.

"Really? Are you really doing this in retaliation at me? How old are you?" you whine, shaking your hips at her, hoping that in some way you'll find her hand and be able to feel it's touch again.

Bellatrix just chuckles heavily at this, running both her hands up and down your back, letting her nails leave red marks on your skin. You hiss at the pain, loving it the same time you hate her procrastinating. "Bellatrix," you whine again.

"Bellatrix what?" is the raven haired woman's coy question.

"Please touch me," you whimper out the demand as her hips press flush against your core. She grabs your hips and begins the rock the two of you together, back and forth, slowly. "Touch you like this?" she asks innocently, letting her lips trail over your back, kissing away the red marks she left earlier.

"You know what I want," you push against her hips, trying to get some friction with the motion but as soon as she senses that she pulls away. "You are a worse tease than me. At least when I interrupted it, it was so that I could suck on your breasts."

"Someone's getting testy," Bellatrix says in a singsong manner as she finally pulls down your shorts, letting them pool around your knees and you can feel a cold breeze where the air hits the wet spot on your panties. You're so close...but you know that Bellatrix won't give you what you want so easily.

"What'll make you finally touch me? Do you want me to beg for it?" you pant out as her pointer finger begins to trace a leisurely circle on the wet spot of your panties.

"That would be nice," Bellatrix hums, her warm hand coming up to rest on you hip while her right hand continues to rub circles.

"Please, will you touch me?" you beg but she only tsks at this. "Surely you can do better than that."

You huff, and grumble about this under your breath when Bellatrix adds just a bit more pressure to her circles and your insides clench in excitement, reminding you of the pleasure that awaits if you just ask for it. "Will you fuck me? Good and hard until I cum?" Still no reply. "Bellatrix." There is exasperation in your voice now. "Give it to me. Fuck me!"

"You don't have to yell about it," she chuckles and you crane your head over your shoulder as much as you can to shoot her an angry glare. She's sitting on her legs, eyes entirely focused on your rear. "You're the one who wanted me to beg in the first place and-ugh, you know what, whatever," you huff angrily and this makes Bellatrix chuckle again and raise her eyes to you. "You always get so demanding during sex Hermione. I love it." And then she finally pulled your panties down.

There was a long shaky exhale from her as she took the sight of you in, her face flushing red in the cheeks. "You're so fucken wet," she growled out, her right hand coming up to rest on your other hip. A loud gulp and then in a lower tone of voice, "I really want to taste you."

Her words only made you more aroused, a bolt shooting down straight to your core, and you had to turn your head back so you could bit down hard on your upper arm to stop the loud moan that threatened to rip out your throat.

You could feel Bellatrix's warm breath on your core as she brought her mouth closer, the seconds it took her to do so excruciatingly long. But the way her tongue felt on your core made up for those seconds and for all the teasing she had done.

Her tongue did a long and thorough swipe, all the way from top to bottom, gathering as much of your juices along the way as she could. You could feel your knees tremble as she let out a low and heady moan as her tongue retreated. "Fuck you taste good," she rumbled out and it wasn't long before her tongue made another trip to your sopping core and then another and another, each time a low moan leaving her throat.

Her tongue swipes were getting faster and more impatient with each round and you could barely stop yourself from grinding on her face, having to bite down on your upper arm constantly to battle the urge. Little sobs of pleasure, however, did escape your lips and you gave up on trying to hold those back because when Bellatrix finally parted your folds with her tongue you cried out loudly. This only encouraged her to lick her way more into you and when she finally turned to suckling on your clit your body gave a long shudder that ran from the tips of your toes to your head and you came.

You would have flopped to the bed if not for Bellatrix's hands on your hips holding you up, and for the cuffs around your wrists. You had totally forgot about those, but now you could feel your wrists throbbing in pain where your skin had chaffed every time you pulled on the chains in twitches of pleasure.

You can feel the weight at the end up the bed lighten as Bellatrix gets up to get the keys to free you. She slides up to the pillows with key in hand, her hands shaking slightly as she pulls the handcuffs off of you. "That was amazing," you breath out as you straighten up and onto your haunches so that you can rub your wrists. But Bellatrix doesn't let you have any rest, she tosses the objects to the side and grabs your face roughly in hers and kisses you long and hard. You can taste yourself on her kiss, before she pushes you flat onto the bed.

She isn't done yet, and neither are you. "I said you wouldn't be able to walk by the end of this night. I keep my promises," she husks as she impatiently drives two, then three fingers into you.

You cling to her back, encouraging her. "Yes, deeper! Deeper!" Sweat gathers on your skin from exertion and your muscles tense and relax and tense and relax again. Your second climax is easier to draw out and you come all over her hand. She only gives you a minute of respite before she's kissing her way down your neck, scrapping teeth on the jut of your collarbone, hands circling down to the apex of your thighs. You want to return the favor to her, but she won't let you for now, making this all about you. By the end of your sixth orgasm of the night, you can barely feel your legs, your muscles trembling from exertion. Still, she tugs you into one last kiss before she lets you retire for the night.

As she pulls away she says, "Don't worry about me. You did me a favor by showing me...you know, about the scars, and how uh, their not all that bad," she mumbles out, sheepish. "I wanted to repay you for that." And then she went to attacking your neck, all lips and tongue and teeth. Her hands roam over your shoulders, your back and all you can do is hold on as her kisses send electricity through your body, turning you on again when you thought your body was spent. You let your hands rake through her thick locks, enjoying the fullness of their texture under your hand. She begins to slow down, until her kisses stop and she pulls back up, her face so close to yours that your noses are brushing. Your breaths intermingle and her eyes are heavy and her cheeks flushed with lust. No doubt you look the same, hair disheveled and lips rosy from her kisses.

The two of you stay like that for a while, chests heaving and breathing the same air as the other until finally you break the hold, placing a gentle kiss on her full lips. "Let's get some sleep," you suggest and pull the covers up around the two of you as she nods her head wordlessly. Immediately she takes to snuggling up to you under the covers, head resting up on your collarbone which no doubt will be sporting a purple hue tomorrow. Your arms come to rest around her shoulders and you place your head on top of her's, taking in that scent of sandalwood and spice.

"Good night, Bellatrix," you murmur to her, voice muffled on her hair.

"...Bella, call me Bella." She insists hesitatingly.

You are a bit surprised by her demand but comply with it. "Good night, Bella." At those words you can feel her smile against your collarbone and you smile down too, into her hair. Before long the two of you fall asleep.

 **A/N: So this chapter has some plot, if you squint really hard at it. Next chapter should finally see the resolution with the Narcissa issue and delve more into the Luna problem.**


	31. Chapter 31

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 31: The Ebbing and Flowing Tide of Life, Love, and Lust_

 **A/N: Wow, I can't believe I hit chapter thirty one. This story was only supposed to be a ten chapter one and now it's gone on for this long. But speaking of lengths of stories, I still have a couple of minor plot points I have to cover before I go into writing the end of this story. This involves the resolution of the issue with Luna, learning about Bellatrix's ex husband, and the truth behind her relation with Tom Riddle (which will be the ending plot of the story).**

The therapy sessions with Narcissa went by smoothly. She was willing, and trying hard, in order to open up her mind and self to you so you could help her. It wasn't easy. She was used to keeping her emotions and thoughts inside her. But several bouts of free association helped her. By writing whatever was on her mind she eventually was able for some uncontrolled thoughts to break through. You were glad to see her making substantial progress. Ever since she had decided to cooperate with you, you were able to discuss and knock out one issue after the other. The hardest part had been making her breach her walls. She was reluctant to share and you had to make her feel comfortable in order for her to share; had to make her trust you. But while a long week of therapy had passed with her, it marked the third week that Luna was still missing. You decided to mention this to the police because it was worrying you more and more.

Where could the girl have gone? Had you really scared her away? It was inconceivable. The police promised to keep an eye on her and filled a missing persons report. Luna didn't have any family in this town so it made it a bit hard for anyone to help look for her. You simply had to trust the police and that they would do their job properly.

After the second week of therapy with Narcissa she does the unthinkable and invites you to the beach with her family. "You want me to go to the beach?" You are shocked and don't even try to hide it.

"Yes. I thought it would be nice. Besides, you are already so involved in mine and Bellatrix's lives that it only makes sense to include you on this. It won't be a big event. Just a small one. And I would appreciate it if you could help me keep an eye on her."

You nod your head slowly at this, trying to comprehend her words and weighing the options on whether you should go or not. "I suppose I can go. It's not like I have anything planned for the weekend." Your need to see Bellatrix outweighs your more logical part.

"We shall pick you up in front of your house at eight in the morning. Does that work for you?"

"I could drive there if you just give me the location-"

"Nonsense. Lucius will drive us there. You just sit back and relax." Narcissa's tone brokers no argument and you nod your head. It's settled. A beach trip with Bellatrix's family. You can't wait to see the other in a bikini even though you know she probably won't wear one because of her scars.

You're too excited to sleep at night so you take up the Hogwarts book series which you had meant to read before Bellatrix interrupted you, in order to try to lull yourself to sleep. The book starts off quite normally. The prose is easy to read and perfect for the young age group it is marketed too. You breeze right through half the book, following the adventures of a boy whose feat in defeating an evil lord as a baby made him famous without him even knowing. Along his way he meets another boy that quickly becomes his best friend. And finally halfway in the book they meet the girl, the one who is supposed to be the heroine. This is you, according to Luna, and you can see aspects of yourself in this book series, scarily so. This girl character was a know it all who didn't have friends except for the two boys now, who had even found her annoying at first.

Damn it, were you really this easy to read? That even Luna could see past your earnest exterior and see the hurt lying underneath? Had she also noticed the change caused by Bellatrix helping you out?

With vigor you take to reading up to the third book, making note of the publication dates. The first book was published in the very infancy of Luna's therapy sessions. It was months before you meet Bellatrix.

The second book, labeled as the Chamber of Secrets, features a slightly more mature cast, that have to face yet another aspect of Voldemort that threatens their time at Hogwarts. In this one the characters fit more into their skins and get expanded on. But it's in the third book that you notice things take a more pronounced dark turn. It's about the time when you first meet Bellatrix, those first volatile therapy sessions. A change in character occurs to the girl character. She ends up punching this one kid who gives her and her friends constant trouble. Well, damn. So Luna was even able to notice this?

It's beginning to unnerve you. How does she know all this? Or maybe you're just over analyzing things? Attributing real life events to the story that don't even really reflect you anymore? Maybe you're just being superbly paranoid.

It's three in the morning when you finish the fourth book, the longest of them yet. The story hasn't ended yet and you are intensely curious as to what the fifth book is like. Can you find some clues in it as to what was going on in Luna's mind during these past few months? The books have continued getting darker and darker, even dealing with character death. Had the fact that you'd been dealing with Bellatrix so negatively influenced Luna that it had driven her delusions down the deep end?

Curiosity eats at you and you know for certain you will not be sleeping tonight. Throwing off your covers, you grab a change of clothes off of the chair next to you and head to your car. You don't stop until you drive up to Luna's house. The lights are off, old newspapers molding on the doorstep. She hasn't come back ever since that therapy session.

You can't believe you are about to do this, but you are. You need to do this, to check up on your patient, you rationalize. Yes, it's for the good of her and not just because you need to know if she's written anything for the fifth book.

A part of your brain tells you you have fallen far from the ideal pedestal of how a therapist should behave but that was doomed to happen the first day you met Bellatrix. You climb out of the car quietly and peer cautiously to your left and right but the street is quiet and dark, no one to be seen. Taking out the lock-pick in your pocket, you set to work on cracking the door open. You fiddle for a while before you manage to crack the door open. Looks like all those times Bellatrix picked locks had rubbed off on you.

Sucking in a breath, you push the door open slowly and close it behind you, casting yourself into even more darkness. Your nerves are rattling and you are thrown between dropping this dumb idea and going back to bed before you can get in trouble, and with going through with it. Eventually your curiosity wins out and you click on the small flashlight you brought with you.

The house is a mess inside. Clothes and papers all strewn over the floor. Did Luna's house always look like this or was it a recent development? You pass through a kitchen and the dining room before you find the stairs and go up them, searching for Luna's bedroom or study. You know that you will find what you need there.

You're careful not to make the stairs squeak or creak in case that perhaps Luna is for some reason hiding in her house and pretending she isn't here. But the upstairs is clear and you push open one or two doors before you find the room you're looking for: a study. The computer is on, the screen black. You shake the mouse of the desk top computer in order to awaken it and the bright glare from the blue screen makes your eyes squint at the bright light. You turn off your flashlight and sit down on the desk chair after righting it once more. You search through the files, looking for what her stories could be labeled under as. After ten minutes you find it and pull up the files. The date on them says she's been working on this since two months ago and this was roughly around the time that you had told Bellatrix she wasn't crazy. You wonder if Luna even managed to pick up on this?

You quickly glance through what she has written and find that the book looks to be nowhere near completed. So then where did that scene from the packet Luna gave you fit into all this? It makes no sense. And it's frustrating. Increasingly so. Huffing, for you can't finish reading all she has written in her house where you feel unsafe and in danger of being found, you email yourself the rest of it, hoping that perhaps you can find the answer in the next four hundred pages. You turn off the screen and turn the chair over like how it had been last time. Then you leave the house and start up your car, driving away as quickly as possible from the house and your guilty conscious.

But so urgent is your need to leave that you don't notice that this time there was someone on the street, and they had been watching you, hiding behind the trashcans.

By the time you get back to your house it's five in the morning which means you only have three more hours until you are supposed to go with Narcissa and her family to the beach. You briefly wonder if you should go to sleep and then decide there is no point in doing so. You need to read the unfinished fifth book even if your eyes are prickling with lack of sleep, even if your thoughts are more sluggish than usual.

You brew yourself a cup of coffee and sit down in your reading armchair on the first floor of your house, turning on your lamp. The laptop with the files on it is open and on and you scroll through the text. The book leaves off unfinished on the fight at the ministry of magic where several death eaters, Bellatrix one of them, fought against the heroes and killed the main character's uncle. There was something disturbing in how you were reading about Bellatrix killing someone in the story. And it was even more disturbing in how Luna had managed to get her character right. The caged energy, the smirking, the leering, and the hunger for violence.

It was frankly pissing you off! Who was Luna to think she had the right to write such things about you and your patients? You were going to tell Bellatrix about this. She deserved to know. It wasn't fair to her. Screw doctor confidentiality with Luna. She was using your patient as a basis for her characters and that was not alright.

You're really angry right now and you take to pacing around the house in order to calm down some of your volatile emotions. Then you go to pack your beach things. You're in no mood to go to the beach but it wouldn't do good to cancel last minute. It would be nice to relax on the sand and soak in the sun to get rid of this agitation you were feeling coursing through your veins.

A honk outside the house alerted you to the arrival of your carpool to the beach and you grabbed your bags before it was time to leave your house. The car is a black sedan. You can make out Lucius behind the wheel, Narcissa in the passenger seat. She rolls down her window to greet you. "Good morning, doctor."

"Good morning," you try to say as cheerily as possible. You hope you don't look like you haven't slept at all.

"You can take the seat in the back, after you put your stuff in the trunk."

You do as she says and clamber over to the backseat where Draco and Bellatrix are sitting. The little boy is slumped over, resting his head on the dark haired woman's lap as he sleeps. Bellatrix sees you and gives you a small smile before she turns her attention over to Draco, running her fingers through his hair. You can see adoration for the boy in her gaze and it warms your heart. She's nothing like the cruel monster Luna depicted in her stories.

The ride over is quiet, as no one wants to speak while Draco is asleep. Which works fine with you. You get this chance to answer some work emails and enjoy the way that Bellatrix's thigh sometimes brushes against yours. You know she's doing it on purpose and sometimes you shift your legs and brush yours against hers on purpose. But you don't dare to do more than this because Narcissa's gaze can be constantly reflected in the rear-view mirror. It often falls on her sister and her son and you wonder if she's worried about the close proximity of the two, of the safety of her son. But you're glad she seems to be making progress with this. Over your past sessions with her you went over the importance of her son to her. She loved him more than any of her possessions and would do anything for him. She voiced how concerned she was that Draco would see Bella as his role model and pick up her bad behaviors-it seemed the young boy adored his aunt, finding her funny and entertaining. But you had told Narcissa there was nothing wrong with the boy being friendly towards his aunt, since she more than likely wouldn't hurt him, given how when you had asked Narcissa to list a time Bellatrix did something to hurt Draco and the amount had been zero. So Narcissa decided she would be open to letting her son spend more time with her sister and this was an example of it. You catch her eye in the mirror and give her a small smile and nod. She catches it and nods her head back, the only reassuring she needs to know she is on the right path. For the rest of the drive she doesn't look back.

Lucius ends up driving the family over to a private beach that he owns, which you should have expected to happen. Why should the family go to a public beach when they could have their own, with no one to bother them.

"Draco, it's time to wake up," Bellatrix softly whispered into the boy's ear, making him stir. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Are we here?" he asked sleepily and she pinched his cheek. "Of course we are. Now, come on, out the car with you," she unbuckled him and he jerked open the car door, fully awake with excitement over being able to be at the beach.

The little boy was already running across the clean sand dunes, Narcissa after him, calling for him to slow down. Lucius busied himself with opening up the trunk and pulling out his family's things from it. You and Bellatrix got your own stuff out and then followed the man down the beach. He wasn't much of a talker and he seemed sort of intense and angry to you. But why? Perhaps he didn't want a complete stranger going on this family trip with him? You wouldn't begrudge him that. You'll just have to make yourself scarce around him.

"Don't worry over Lucius," Bellatrix murmurs as the man walks steadily ahead of you two. She can notice your contemplative stare on his back and can guess what it's for. "He's just always upset, no matter whats going on. Even if you weren't here he'd be still pissed off because I'm here."

"He doesn't like you," you note dryly. "Not surprising."

"He thinks I shouldn't be next to Draco at all. Much less living in their house and engaging like a normal person in their family activities. But thank you for whatever you said to Narcissa about her son and me being able to talk to him. She's really loosened up around him."

"No problem. She needs to show you trust. And her son is precious to her. She needs to be able to see that you have a caring side, like you did all those years ago for her under your father's rule. She needs to remember how much you are willing to sacrifice for another."

"Ha, don't get too deep into that. The past is different from the present and I have no intention of lingering in memories of things that were. I want to move forwards," she smiles as she admits this and you feel your own lips tug up in an answering smile.

It was just months ago that she didn't want to make any progress with her illness and now here she was, overjoyed to be moving forwards. You want to grab her hand and squeeze it tightly but resist the urge to do so.

The five of you set up a blanket and umbrella not too far from the water, a cooler next to it, containing snacks and some light alcoholic beverages. Draco is already undressing and getting ready to go into the water, but his mother pulls him back so she can apply sunscreen on his pale skin. Lucius merely wears some swimming trunks while Narcissa has on a beach robe over her lime green two piece, hair in a bun. But it's Bellatrix's outfit that makes you consciously have to focus on something else. She's wearing a black button down tied at the front and a couple buttons undone at the top to give a peek of her collarbone. On her head is a black sunhat, her curls spilling out from under it. You knew she'd wear black and keep her top half covered but it's her legs that don't give you any rest. All she has on is a bikini bottom that leaves her legs exposed for days, pure marble turned to flesh. You just want to sink your teeth into her skin, mark it with hot kisses and insistent fingertips. Trace a path up the back of her leg and to her pu- you take a shuddering breath and try to control your racing heart.

She can tell the effect she's having on you, for she catches your eye out of the corner of hers and smirks widely. You take to focusing on discarding your own clothes to reveal your bikini, a pink two piece that covers most of your skin for decency reasons. You just wouldn't feel right being too exposed in front of both your patients and their family's.

"Aunt Bella," Draco cries out and grabs the older woman's hand. "Let's go into the water."

"Alright, I will," she smiles down at him and they run off to the water. Lucius takes to walking off somewhere, no doubt to angrily brood or whatever it was he did, while Narcissa lays down next to you, taking off her beach robe so she could start to tan. You lay down next to her, watching the scene of Bellatrix and Draco splashing each other with water unfold. The young boys high pitched cries of joy can be heard from here.

Narcissa is also watching her son and her sister play and a small smile makes its way onto her lips. "You know, I had forgotten," she starts off softly.

You don't turn your head to face her. You just wait quietly for her to go on.

"How she really used to be like," Narcissa eyes as Bellatrix smiles and howls with laughter as she lets Draco tackle her in the water. "She was kind, funny and exuberant. She had a real taste for life. But that man took everything from her. He ruined her and I just let it happen."

Oh oh, you can feel that some deep shit is about to happen. You were glad that Narcissa was seeing her sister in another light, that's what you had been hoping would happen. But you don't think a beach is a good place to relive such memories. Or that you are awake enough to be beneficial. Still, you say nothing for now.

"I should have said something. Should have helped her. I could have. Father adored me most, he listened more often to my pleas than he did to my mother or my two sisters." Narcissa's voice is soft but strong. She's not going to cry. Not yet. "But I was a coward. I didn't dare risk my small world of happiness. I wanted to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So Bella had to face that demon all on her own, and I showed her no love, no gratitude for it. I repaid her kindness and protection by leaving her as soon as father arranged a marriage. And Andromeda did the same. We left her alone. She must have felt so betrayed; so lonely. But she never once did complain about it. Never once did raise a hand to hurt us." At this Narcissa takes a deep shuddering breath, her guilt surfacing and eating at her.

"It doesn't matter what happened in the past," you tell her, noting that she is discreetly trying to wipe away some tears. "We all make mistakes. We're not perfect. And you were young and scared. And that's enough to make anyone act in ways not true to their character. What matters is that now you are trying. Trying to fix your mistakes. And Bellatrix needs someone to support her, to give her the family love she needs."

"But I did her wrong for so long. I kept her locked up in the house like my father did. Did you know that he would lock us in the basement for days without food or water so that we could gain 'some sensibility'?" Narcissa scoffs on the last word. God, you really hate their father. There was so much wrong with him. You wish you could throw him in jail. How could he do such damage to his daughters? Granted Narcissa was hiding her scars better since she'd escaped unscathed for the most part, but Bellatrix's scars were open for the world to see. She couldn't hide them; couldn't hide the damage he did to her. You haven't met the middle sister, but you wonder what her mental status is like.

"It was wrong. I should have treated her more humanely." Her voice cracks at the end and you turn to look at her. She's biting her lower lip in an expression of anguish and this is the most emotion you have ever seen her portray. It must be hurting her more than she cares to say. Or can say.

"You were a product of your father's upbringing. How could you have known how to treat a loved one properly if you'd only ever seen how your father treated you all. His methods were cruel and you unknowingly used them, because you didn't know better." Narcissa turns to look at you at those words, relief glimmering in her eyes. "It doesn't make what you did any better, but you recognized the error of your ways and are working on fixing it. On being able to repay your elder sister for all her kindness to you during those years."

Narcissa nods her head slowly and lays her hand on top of yours. "Thank you. For your words. I do hope you can continue to help me during my journey."

"Of course," you smile at her, a shadow covering your face. You look up to see Bellatrix and Draco have returned from the water, droplets clinging to their skin. You trace a path down Bellatrix thighs, watching the droplets race and fall off.

"Mom, where are the snacks?" Draco asks, pushing some wet hair from his eyes.

"They're in the cooler sweetie," Narcissa points at it with her free hand, her other hand still on top of yours. Bellatrix notices the conjoined hands and her eyes go blank; you can't tell what she's thinking. Slowly you remove your hand fromunder Narcissa's, not wanting to act rude in removing it too quickly. "Did you have fun in the water?" you ask Bellatrix, for some reason feeling immensely guilty. Like you got caught cheating on her. That's what the air around you two feels like right now, but you can't explain why. There was absolutely nothing going on between you and her sister that should make you feel this way. Yet, the back of your hand burns in shame and you rub it absentmindedly.

"Yes, I did," is her cool response and she brushes past you to go help Draco open up a juice box.

You try not to let that bother you but internally you want to scream. _Just great. What got fucked up this time?_ You shake your head and decide you won't be able to do anything about it until later so you lay back on the blanket and try to read a book that you brought with you. Narcissa gets up to snatch a beer away from Bellatrix who is covertly trying to drink one when she shouldn't. The two of them squabble loudly and in the meantime Draco turns to you. "Are you that lady from the party?" he asks, sipping on his juice loudly.

"Yes, I am," you murmur in amusement.

"How come mommy brought you here? Are the two of you friends?"

"Yes...you could say that," you answer, flipping a page in your book.

"Are you and aunt Bella also friends?"

"Yes...I suppose so," you wonder what this kid's goal in this conversation is and the scold yourself. He's just a kid, they usually didn't have master plans behind their questions or conversations. Draco was probably curious as to why you were here on this private family trip.

"And what about you and my daddy?"

"No, I don't really know him that well," you sigh, trying to read but failing because of Draco's distraction.

"And are we friends?" he asked this shyly and this caused you to bring the book away from your face. You study his expression, hard to do as it's upside down from your position. "We can be," you answer at last. He smiles at this and runs off to his mom, shouting out, "mom, that lady said she would be my friend!"

You chuckle at this, watching the boy distract his mother and allowing Bella to grab another beer covertly from the cooler and stalk off.

Time passes and soon you are the only one on the blanket. Not that you mind. Rolling under the shade of the umbrella, you close your eyes and let sleep take you. Later you are roused only when you feel cold water droplets on your bare legs.

You startle awake, squinting at the perpetrator of such an act and see Bellatrix standing above you, squeezing out her wet shirt over your legs. There's a wide grin on her face, devious in nature. "Oh, did I wake you?" she asks innocently.

"What time is it?" you mutter out instead, yawning and sitting up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It's a lot darker than you remember it being before, the sun hovering low in the sky.

"It's almost six. You slept for a long time," Bellatrix finishes wringing out her shirt.

"Where is everyone?"

"Lucius, Narcissa and Draco have gone jet skiing. They won't be back for a while." As if on cue you can hear the distant whine of a jet motor but you can't see the boat.

"Oh 'kay," you are still a bit fuzzy from sleep, so you can't think to say much.

"Let's go on a walk," Bellatrix suggests.

You get up at her words, the two of you wordlessly trailing off down by the shore, heading towards a series of jagged rocks. You wonder if she's mad at you about what happened with you and her sister and as soon as you think it, she speaks it. "What was that?" she asks, an edge of steel in her voice.

"What was what?" you ask, prompting her to be more specific.

"Back there, you and Narcissa...holding hands," she hisses the last part out as if were a blasphemous act. Her shoulders hunch up and she stomps through the sand like a child about to have a tantrum.

"Bellatrix, it was nothing. Just...Narcissa and I were having a chat. About her past and she held onto my hand because it was a sign of comfort; she took strength from me at that."

Bellatrix stops walking at this, spinning on her heel to face you. "Did it only really mean that? And nothing else?"

"Bellatrix-"

"Tell me you don't hold feelings for her," she whispers out harshly. There's a vulnerability on her face and you hate that you are the cause of it. You had forgotten how jealous she could get and over the most simplest of things. Usually she handled it with anger, but perhaps it was different when it came to her seeing you and her sister close. You wondered why?

This was the remnants of her Borderline Personality Disorder kicking in. She was used to being distrustful in relationships and you didn't blame her given how all her familial bonds had either left her bloody and beaten or betrayed and by herself.

You cup her cheek in one hand, trying to pour all your sincerity into your eyes as you spoke. "Bella, the only one I love is you."

She's quiet as she lets the words sink in. "Then show me," she says at last. And those words bring forth all the desires you had been holding back today.

The two of you just make it to the alcove behind the rocks, figuring you will be safe from prying eyes here. You push her down to the sand and immediately take to nibbling on her neck, careful not to leave marks. Her hands stray up to your bikini top and undo it before she takes both your breasts in her hands and squeezes hard. You moan into her neck and give a full body twitch on top of her, leg slipping between her thigh. You begin to rock it into her, her hips following your rhythm eagerly.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love your bikini not on you, pet?" Bellatrix husked.

"You really hate pink, huh?" you chuckle and lower your head to kiss her harshly. Tongues battle and you suck hers into your mouth, eliciting a moan from her. When you part you rain down kisses around her ear, breathing into it some important words. "Just remember Bella, you don't need to seek love assurance in the form of sex."

"I know that," she laughs huskily, grinding down hard on your leg and groaning when it rubs just the right way. "I just wanted to fuck. On a beach. Been on my bucket list for a while now. And I needed to give you some motivation or else you miss goody little two shoes wouldn't do it." She grins evilly at you. You can't believe this woman. Was everything an act?

"Was this all a trick?" you pull harshly on her hair so you are gaze to gaze: peering down into the dark depths of her eyes, so much like an abyss. There was something alive in them, something more than her regular consciousness but you couldn't tell what. All you knew was that it drew you in like a magnet.

 _Stare into the abyss long enough and it stares back at you,_ the familiar quote floats through your head.

"No, I really was upset when I saw you and Cissy, but I knew it was wrong to get jealous over something stupid like that. I knew you had a reason for it, pet," she talks as she continues to play with your tits. It's kind of hard to be mad or shocked at her when she does that.

"Well I'm glad you recognized your jealousy and stopped it. But really, you didn't have to give me much reason to fuck you." You groan out as she takes a hardened nipple into your mouth and sucks hard. Tingles erupt up and down your spine. "I was already thinking about it because your legs should be illegal."

"Then I guess the both of us should shut up and get on with it," Bellatrix says and then flips you over. Now you are the one spread out on the wet sand, grains clinging to you. Kissing you hard she descends to focus on your chest, rolling one nipple in her mouth before switching to the other; going back and forth. You can't help the puffs of air that escape your mouth and rub your thighs together in increasing frustration. Your bikini bottom is wet and its not from the ocean water. "Bellatrix," you hiss out and she moves one hand teasingly down your flat stomach to the apex of your thighs. Her fingers slip in easily between your folds and you let out a loud gasp at the touch, your walls clenching greedily on her long fingers.

She moves in and out in measure with the waves that are steadily rising up higher and higher upon the shore with each crest and fall. And you feel like you are cresting and falling, the waves of pleasure rolling up from your core to your heart, filling you with warmth and need. You roll your hips into her hand, hand grabbing onto her damp curls and bringing her mouth to yours so you can suck on her bottom lip.

It doesn't take long for your orgasm to hit you, her fingers hitting all the right spots. You come apart with a loud cry, that she covers with her mouth, closing your eyes shut as your back arches up and then down. You trail your hands to her backside, squeezing down hard on it, wanting to do her next but she pulls away, her hand slipping free of your core and you immediately feel emptier without it there.

"Where are you going?" you ask in a voice laced with sex.

"Into the water," she smiles and wades in. "You afraid to get a little wet?" she taunts, kicking up some water at you. Mind still in post orgasm haze, you wobble to your legs, your muscles feeling liquidized. "Come get me."

The challenge rolls off of full lips that you want to cover with yours so you do as she asks. Laughter erupts from her throat as she splashes water at you, the coolness of it bringing some clarity to your mind. She loses her sun hat in one big splash from you and places it on a rock peeking out of the water before she tackles you and pulls you under water. Water enters your mouth and nose and you are flailing limbs. You open your eyes underwater to see Bellatrix has already pulled herself up and you do the same, finding some grounding under your feet. You resurface, coughing water and she splashes you with water, blinding you. "You are relentless!" you growl out at her and she snickers, "then do something about it."

You wipe the water from your eyes, and fueled by your competitiveness, you make to kick some water at her. But that's a decoy. You lunge at her, arms pushing against her shoulders and with a squeak of surprise she ends up backing up into a giant slab of stone, the rock cool on her back. You bang your forehead into hers, cupping her cheeks aggressively and staring into her eyes intensely. Her breath washes over your mouth and it smells like a combination of beer and sweets. You feel like you don't need alcohol to get drunk as long as she's around you. She's too intoxicating and you wonder how you could have ever denied yourself this. How you could have ever stayed away. Your body craved her to an insane degree. Each time you separated from her, you came back wanting more, aching for more.

You want to taste her, want to see her fall apart. So you kiss her, biting down hard on her bottom lip, a choked cry coming from her lips as your nails dug into her neck. Not wasting too much time you let your hands trail down to her hips and free her of her bikini bottom, tossing it somewhere next to where her hat is. Trailing down kisses from her mouth to her collarbone then to hipbone. Her thighs spread in eager anticipation and you give her little to no warning as your tongue begins to lash at her slit, capturing all her moisture in ravishing flicks. Your hands rest flat against her stomach and you can feel her muscles trembling underneath. She's writhing above you like a live wire, unable to silence her cries. "Fuck...fuck...fuck...slow down, I can't...hold on," she pants but you can't hear her, too wrapped up in the world between her thighs.

Her eyes close in sensory overload and you can feel her walls tighten around your tongue, hands digging into your hair painfully. "Hermione," she mewls and then cums hard, thighs shaking around your head. You lick up everything, loving her sweet taste. Slowly she slides down, unable to keep herself up.

"Were you trying to kill me?" she asks in a weak voice. Her cheeks are flushed and chest heaving in exertion. Eyes filled with affection and the fading vestiges of lust.

"No, I got too over eager," you apologize with a small smile, your tongue snaking out to catch the last traces of her off of your lips.

"Mmm," she hums and tugs you to her chest, face resting in the crook of your neck. She's all docile again, clinging to you like you she's afraid you'll get washed away with the tide. The waves reach up to your shoulder's now. A jet ski whine sounds close by and it brings you back to reality. The two of you need to leave this little heavenly cove and head back before the family notices.

Already dusk is hitting the beach, bathing everything in red light. The water around the two of you looks red like blood.

"We have to go, Bella," you whisper into her ear before kissing it.

"I know," she sighs heavily. She untangles herself from you and you help her back up to her feet before fetching her discarded clothing for her. The both of you are wet from frolicking in the water. She puts on her stuff, her hand slipping into yours.

"We can't-" you shoot the conjoined hands a look.

"I know. But just for now." The two of you walk back halfway in silence, the warmth of your combined hands warming your heart. You feel closer to her than ever before and know that the separation this time will be harder than before. You curse your own stupid desire to see her return back to her sister's house.

The two of you let go when you can make out the outline of the blanket. Draco, Narcissa and Lucius are all there and as you get closer you can make out tension in the blonde woman's shoulders and Lucius's brooding face. You wonder what could be going on. Still too far to make out the words, you can hear some sort of shock in them, pain.

"What's going on here?" you ask just as Narcissa hangs up on the phone. Her face despite the tan she received is pale.

"It's my father," she shakes out. "His body was found in the house. Murdered."

"They say he's been dead for weeks," Lucius adds in a grave whisper.

You can feel your skin go cold. Your mouth goes dry. And your head swirls, making you feel a bit wobbly. Luna's been missing for weeks. You feel like you might be sick.

You are barely able to register Bellatrix's cackling insane laughter at her father's murder before you sit down heavily on the sand, head in your hands. Holy fuck, you have a potentially dangerous client on the loose and you don't know what to do.

You certainly just got fucked on the beach and more than in one way.

 **A/N: *Pulls out another plot twist from the never ending bag of plot twists***

 **Surprise! Promise that all my plot twists are actually a necessary part of the story.**


	32. Chapter 32

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 32: Things Can't Get Worse, Can They?_

"Are you shitting me?" Bellatrix blurted out as she watched you pace the length of your room. You had been back from the beach for several hours now but the two of you were still in your beach clothes. Narcissa had let you keep Bellatrix over for a couple of hours on charges that you needed to talk to her about her father's death. You would go over it with Narcissa later, figuring the blonde woman didn't need it as much as Bellatrix did. But you hadn't really kept Bella over in order to talk to her about her father's death. It was more than that. It involved Luna.

Ever since you had found that Cygnus had been murdered your mind had been racing, unable to settle down. Not much was known right now except that it was Druella, his wife, who had found his body, decaying and beheaded in his study. Next to him lay the butlers beheaded body as well. He had probably been a casualty, having the unfortunate luck of coming in on the crime only to be attacked himself. She had then called the police and they were only now starting up an investigation. But it was going to be hard to do so with a rotting corpse and no perceivable leads. Druella remained a suspect at large because it was her house and she had been the only one there the whole time, no one coming or going this entire time.

But you knew who it had to be. It had to be Luna. Who else? The blonde haired woman had gotten it into her head that Bellatrix was a danger to you and was trying to do something about it. But why murder Bellatrix's dad? What goal did that complete? You hadn't connected everything together but you had a sinking feeling it involved Luna and so you had told Bellatrix this, who had been shocked.

"One of your former patient's did this? Why would they fucking do it?" Bellatrix didn't seem distressed by this at all. This was because she was glad her father had been killed off. She had suffered too long at his hand; his murder was poetic justice. All the way on the ride home she had laughed and giggled and hummed gleefully while everyone else had sat grim faced in the car.

The older woman's behavior was getting on Narcissa's nerves, the woman snapping at her angrily. "Have some respect for the dead."

"Oh, come off of it. You know if one of us had died, daddy dearest would have used our corpses as meals for his dogs."

That was another thing. All his dogs were dead too. You knew why. You and Bellatrix had visited the house not too long and the dark haired woman had killed them all as a form of overcoming the trauma from her past. What would the police make of that? Would they find out Bellatrix had done it? If so, then the older woman could become another person of interest in this murder.

You rubbed your head in worry. What the fuck were you going to do now? Your prints had also been at the house, along with your blood when you had bled all over the place. What were you going to do if the police found it? Surely you would be called in and so would Bellatrix and then it would become revealed that you have been giving her therapy during the time you supposedly didn't know where she was.

You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes. Fuck, you were so stressed about this. Fucking Luna and her stupid fucking behavior.

"Hermione, relax," Bellatrix is next to you and she pulls your hands away from your eyes so she can look into them. Her black gaze is amused which only riles you up more.

"I can't fucking relax when we could get in trouble!" You burst out, pulling away from her and stalking over to the window, breathing deeply.

"Get in trouble?" Bellatrix echoed.

"Yes. Our prints are at the house from all those weeks ago when we went there to see your father. The cops could make us potential suspects."

Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest. "Huh, I hadn't considered that."

"Of course you fucking didn't!" You suck in a breath and hit your head against the glass pane. You shouldn't be taking out your anger on her but you just can't help it. You are just so stressed and overwhelmed by the possibility of what could occur. "And not only that but then if they call us in it would reveal the fact that we were meeting up for therapy during the time that I claimed to not know where you were. Narcissa will know I lied to her."

Bellatrix was silent as she took this in, only your flimsy efforts at holding back your ragged breath filling the room. At last she said. "Don't worry. The police won't come after us. Nothing bad will happen."

"How can you be so sure?" you hiss and twirl on your heel to face her.

Bellatrix only smirks. "You forget who my friends are."

Your throat dries up at this. "Bellatrix-?" you ask hesitantly.

She approaches you, hands on your cheeks. "I take care of the one's I love and cherish." Her eyes are blank but she presses a kiss to your lips. "See you later." And she rushes out of the house before you can even stop her.

You rub your lips, savoring her sweet kiss and close your eyes, afraid for her, afraid for what she will do, but mostly afraid for yourself. Deciding you won't get anything done today, you pull yourself into the shower, washing off the sand and scent of the ocean. Then you crawl into bed and hope that when you wake up tomorrow it will all have turned out to be a bad dream.

* * *

If you think tomorrow will be any better, you're wrong. So wrong. The day starts out positively enough before it descends into utter nightmare. Harry rings you in the morning and announces that he and Tom Riddle will be having lunch in town and that you should come since you wanted to meet him. You agree to this, remembering that you had wanted to figure out more about Tom Riddle and what he could have done to Bellatrix and if there was some way you could reverse it. Although honestly you didn't think you were at your best right now so you don't know how much you will gleam from confronting him.

Your worry from last night weighed like an iron cloud over your head. It made your movements sluggish, made your stomach churn. Getting dressed took a lot of effort but you tried to snap yourself out of this funk. Seeing Harry would definitely lift your mood or at least you were hoping it would.

The drive to the cafe is short and you flatten the wrinkles out of your shirt as you come in and try to locate the two men. Harry spots you first and waves you over with a loud cry of your name.

"Hermione how good to see you," Harry hugs you warmly and you are grateful for his touch. It grounds you. Gives you strength.

"Tom, surely you remember Hermione," Harry turns to Tom who is sitting down, a napkin used to wipe his mouth. He is a handsome man with thick dark brown hair. "Of course I do," he says in that rich voice of his. "You've been talking my ear off about her accomplishments all morning long."

"I wasn't that bad. Besides, she deserves recognition for her actions," Harry says, pulling out a chair for you to sit on and you do, sitting in between them.

"I'm sure she does," Tom affirms to Harry before tuning to you. "But I'd like to hear more in her own words."

This lends way to conversation about your work and how it is developing so far. It gives you an opening to ask about Bellatrix. You want to see if he remembers her. "I actually have this really difficult patient that I was hoping I could gain some insight about," you say, taking a sip of the complementary water and pushing aside your unfinished plate. Nerves are playing a basketball game in your gut right now and you can't eat because their winning. The score is ten to one. "I've noticed on her records that she was one of your clients. You were one of her first therapists over a multitude of therapists over a series of fifteen years."

Tom nods his head at this, indicating for you to continue. "She was diagnosed with many issues, such as BPD and intermediate explosive disorder-the list goes on. She also has a host of trust issues, is an adrenaline junkie, and suffers from body dysphoria to a certain extent. And I was just wondering if you could give me any advice on dealing with her. How did you deal with her?"

"I'm not quite sure which patient you are referring to, as I have treated many over my course of being a therapist. However, I did have a patient that was absolutely the worst. Every time they came into my office it was a nightmare. They had so many issues that I couldn't see where one disorder stopped and the other began. And worst of all, I couldn't treat them. I failed in helping them. Because they kept trying to seduce me."

"They did?" you raise a brow at this story. That sounds terrible. You're lucky none of your patients have tried that. You wouldn't know how to deal with that.

"Yes. And it wasn't because they actually held feelings for me, but because I felt they were going to try and use my feelings to their advantage; try to weasel their way out of therapy. They were actually the one that inspired my new categorization of Histrionic disorder, if you remember from the convention."

You do. You eagerly await what he is going to say next. Harry meanwhile has taken to ordering some more breakfast muffins to stuff his mouth with.

"I must admit, they were really getting under my skin, and I found myself favoring them, doing things that were against the code of conduct for a therapist. But thankfully I had a friend that helped me see the issue. So doing what I thought was best, I changed my tactics and had them referred to another therapist."

"So you gave up on them?" you ask, surprised by this. You thought Tom was able to cure anyone.

"I did," he confessed with a hint of humility. "I was no match for them. They were too good. So I sent them to someone who was older, a therapist who was married, in the hopes that they would be unable to seduce him." He took a sip here, almost dramatically, you sitting on the edge of your seat, engrossed fully in this story. Tom had a way with words.

"But I was wrong," he sighed. "They had the therapist divorcing in a month's time."

"Wow," you can't stop the exclamation coming from your mouth. "They're good."

"They are," Harry whistles. "It took me like a year and a half to break up with this girl I didn't like anymore."

"That's cause you're too nice," you smile and hit Harry playfully on the arm.

"So they were very dangerous, and I felt terrible for passing them over to someone else. But they were mandated by the state in order to receive help and needed to be in therapy. Eventually we got them to have therapy with women and that usually worked, until they got tired of them and turned violent against them."

"Was there no hope for this patient?" you ask, feeling sympathetic.

"I'm not sure what became of them. I haven't seen them in years. I stopped following the case. It was too dangerous. But I'm sure you should have nothing to worry about. You are obviously a very talented individual, so don't let your insecurities get to you and don't push your responsibilities onto someone else like I did. You will be able to figure this patient out. I believe in you."

You glow warmly at his praise but are saddened that it seems he doesn't remember about Bellatrix. There is no way to figure out what went wrong between him and her. She knew, but she wasn't saying anything. Just when you have decided that perhaps you should outright ask if he knew a woman of the name by Bellatrix, he gets a phone call.

"I'm sorry, but it seems I have to take this." He stood up and walked outside.

"I'm so glad I didn't go into counseling," Harry breathes out around his third muffin. "I would totally have failed to help anyone. They'd walk all over me."

"They would," you affirm, deep in thought. You wait impatiently for Tom to come back, but when he does, there is an apology on his lips. "It appears I have to go. Business calls. But I had a splendid time. I do hope I will see you again," he smiles at you and then gathers up his things, leaves money for his bill, and leaves.

Well, there went that chance. You drown out your sigh of exasperation with a sip of water. Maybe next time.

You and Harry continue talking for half an hour more until he has finished all his food. Then you pay the bill and leave together. Coming down the block, you spot two familiar pairs of red heads. It's Ginny and Ron, holding some grocery bags in their hands.

"Hermione!" Ginny cheers and you wave back at her. "How have you been?"

"Good," you lie, coming to a stop as they do, pausing for conversation. "Have you been shopping?"

"Yes, got some necessary ingredients, since someone eats here like a horse and we ran out of eggs and milk," Ginny elbowed Ron in the stomach not so subtly.

"You eat as much as me if not more!" He proclaimed.

"And whose this?" Ginny's attention turns to Harry, who has been cordially standing by to let you talk.

"This is Harry," you introduce him and he gives his crooked smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he shakes hands with Ron and Ginny, the female red heads eyes opening wide and a realization forms on her face. You wished you had known ahead of time what it was she had been thinking because if you had it would have saved you a shit ton of embarrassment.

"Ron, this is Harry. _The_ Harry. Hermione's boyfriend!" Ginny cried out in excitement no doubt thinking she was doing you a favor.

Ron's face was neutral but a flash of pain hit it.

Harry meanwhile was surprised. "What? Boyfriend? Oh no," he chuckled, throwing an arm your shoulders. "I thought you were dating that Bellatrix." He looks down at you at this and you completely freeze at his words, your heart beating weakly in your ears. You suddenly feel like you can't breathe, can't formulate words. "She was at your house, cooking us dinner and exchanging stories on how you guys first meet."

This time it was Ginny's and Ron's turn to be shocked. "What?" they both cried out. Ron's was a what born more of confusion, but Ginny's was an outraged one because she knew who Bellatrix was. "Isn't she your patient?"

Harry went back to being surprised. "What?" His look on you turned uncertain and accusatory. You felt like his arm around his shoulders was suffocating you. You pulled away, taking two steps back. You felt cornered and sick, cold sweat breaking out on your back. All three of them looked on at you as you clutched your bag straps to ground yourself. It didn't help. It felt like the world was spinning around you, like everything was too loud, the zoom of the cars on the street and the chatter of talking people hitting your eardrums viciously.

"Hermione, what's going on? Are you okay?" Harry reached out a hand and you flinched back from it. You knew you weren't acting like yourself but you couldn't help it. You were so out of your comfort zone. You hadn't wanted to be outed like this.

You felt the need to deny all this on the tip of your tongue. "It's not- I- no, don't- I can- I can explain." _Please don't hate me._

"Hermione why are you freaking out so much?" Harry's soft question was drowned out by Ginny's.

"Hermione, please tell me it's not what I think it is. Please tell me this is a huge misunderstanding."

"Is Bellatrix that woman who was at our bar? Starting fights?" Ron asks. It seems he is a bit slow and for this you are thankful. One less person to be worried about.

"Uh, she's- well, she isn't a patient." You swallow heavily."I think we should go somewhere else so I can explain this better." _Like under a rock so I can hide myself there and never leave again._

 **A/N: Writing this scene, I was like what is a subtle way that would cause Hermione to have her secret relationship outed. And this is what I came up with. A causal meeting that quickly turns into chaos. Its one of the most unexpected ways since you're just having a normal chat and them boom, secret drop. I'm still cackling evilly even as I write this. I need to stop being so harsh on her.**


	33. Chapter 33

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Thirty Three: Truth is Chaos_

"So, let me get this clear, you're gay and you're dating an ex-patient of yours," Ron said slowly and uncertainly and in an manner that made it hard to tell if he found one facet of that statement grosser than the other. The four of you were sitting in a booth in their bar which was closed because it was only two in the afternoon right now. But the emptiness of it just makes his declaration louder and you try not to cringe at his words. You've been pointing this out for the better half of the hour but in a roundabout manner, afraid to admit to this openly.

You had started from the start, telling them how Bellatrix was a patient of yours initially, but you had gotten taken off her case and she had decided to come live in your house because she had gotten into a fight with her sister. You had naturally been opposed to the idea but she hadn't had many housing options, so you had let her stay. And over the course of this, you gained feelings for her (being careful to mention it had happened after that bar incident; you didn't want Ginny thinking you had lied to her at the time about why Bella was in a club with you, even though you had). You know how wrong it all was, and you hated yourself for giving in so easily. But Bellatrix returned your feelings so there was no uneven power dynamic; you weren't taking advantage of her. And since she was no longer your patient, there weren't any legality issues with this. Or so you hoped, you quietly thought to yourself.

You hadn't included all the details, such as Narcissa hunting down for her sister, or the kisses and sex, but you didn't think it was necessary to add that in. It would make it worse.

"Yes," you hiss out quietly. "That's how it is." Your eyes stay lowered to the table top, picking out the whorls in the wood, afraid to meet their faces. Harry next to you shifts. "Well, I don't see anything wrong with this. Hermione always did have weird taste in women, but," at this he put his hand on your shoulder, "as long as you're happy, I support your relationship. And Bellatrix seems like a cool person; highly educated."

"Really?" Ron scoffs in disgust. "What prescription are your glasses then, mate, because I think you're blind."

"Excuse me?" Harry asks, like he hasn't heard this right. There is a tinge of offense in his voice. His hand goes up to touch his glasses in assurance of them. "I can see perfectly fine."

"She's a highly violent person! Why, every time I've come across her she's always fighting or talking rubbish!" Ron added and you pick your head up, brows furrowed in worry. Is he upset at you?

"Yes, I'm sorry, but I have to agree with Ron. I've only ever...seen the bad... and it's a lot for me to wrap my head around. A therapist having a relationship with a patient is wrong," Ginny says apologetically. You can see something like confusion glimmering in her eyes and you wonder if you have lost respect with her.

"She's really not that bad," you can't hold yourself back from going on the defense of your girlfriend. "She's suffered a lot. Good lord, _too_ much and at the hands of loved ones. And her diagnoses, half of them were coerced on her because people didn't understand her character."

"I don't know..." Ginny shakes her head softly while Ron's upper lip curls up. "Character? Misunderstood? I highly doubt that! She's nuttier than a fruitcake!"

Harry looks at you with a contemplative look on his face but which hardens when he refocuses it on Ron. "I think you're being pigheaded, Ron. Hermione's a capable therapist. And nobody said Bellatrix is perfect, or even cured, but she's lucky to have Hermione as her significant other because that means Hermione will be able to support her through her issues. I think you ought to open your mind. Don't put people with mental issues into a box. Have dinner with her, see for yourself how nice she can be."

"Dinner with her?" Ron spits, glaring at Harry who glares back at him, a frown on his face intensifying. "It'll only prove what I think about her to be true!"

"I think that would be a good idea actually," Ginny interjects calmly before the testosterone oozing out from the two men at the table erupts.

"There we go, a smart one!" Harry exclaims. "A dinner it is. Hermione you take care of the time and place and we'll make sure we're all there," Harry almost threatened in the end, as if daring the other two to not come. Then he got up. "I have work to attend to. Good day." With a wave he was gone, leaving you with a tense and awkward atmosphere. And a dinner to plan. Didn't you have any say in this?! You didn't want to have a dinner with everyone! God! You wanted to yell out and tear at your hair. But you couldn't do it at the table.

"Sorry about everything," Ginny said in a low voice. "It's just a lot to take in." She gives you almost a pitying look before she gets up and tugs Ron up with her, the red haired man having resorted to trying to track Harry down through the window and glaring at him that way.

"It's okay. I should have said something earlier. It's just I didn't want...this sort of reaction. I was fearing it," you reluctantly admit.

Ginny nods her head in understanding. "Yea, well..." she trails off, the words, it happened anyways, hanging unspoken in the air. "See you soon, for that dinner."

"Uh, we don't actually have to do the dinner..." but you trail off into quiet when you notice that neither of them is paying attention to your words and have gone upstairs to where they live. Ron continues to ignore you and you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

Looks like its time to plan that dinner.

You head back home stressed and go immediately to your studio to paint your stress away. You only bother to slip your overalls on, too lazy to bother with the rest of the clothing. You're going to take a lavender bath after this anyways, perfect for easing that tension from your limbs. Halfway through painting, your ears perk up at the sound of the window opening and when you swivel around on your stool, Bellatrix comes climbing through, a wide grin on her face. Usually the sight of her would bring a goofy grin to your face but not today, her form only reminding you of today's earlier events.

You don't even ask her how she evaded Narcissa, she won't ever tell you. When she notices your stressed look, her smile drops. "What happened, pet?" she comes up, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"It's...god, so much went wrong today Bella," you sigh out and before you know it, it all comes bursting out of you. The way your relationship with her was revealed, your fears over losing your only friends in this town, and now the upcoming dinner you have to plan. She listens to you ramble on patiently, only nodding her head to indicate she is listening. When you finish, she comes up to you and gives you a warm hug that you sink into gratefully. The smell of sandalwood and spice enfolds you and relaxes you. Before she used to stress you out so much, but now she is the relief you need.

"Just relax. It's going to be okay. You have this under control. If anyone has it under control it would be you," she says reassuringly into your brown hair.

"But what if I don't have it under control. Everyone expects me to, but what if this one time I don't?" you voice. You fear people put too much faith in your abilities and that one day they will fall short and leave you devastated. And then who will help you, if they believe you to be able to handle this all on your own?

"If it helps, I can help arrange the dinner for you," Bellatrix offers.

"Thanks, that would help," you mumble into her stomach. She pulls away at this and twirls her finger. "Turn around."

"Why?" you ask, brows furrowed at her sudden demand.

"Just do it. I want to help you de-stress," she instructs.

You do as she asks and moments later feel the pressure of her hands on your back, working just right into your tense shoulder muscles.

"My god," she laughs. "You have so much tension in your muscles. Did you never once get a massage?"

"No, I haven't," you admit, your eyes halflidding at the pleasant sensation. It feels so good, her touch sending little bolts of lighting from where your bare skin is touching her bare hands. "Never really had time to do so. Usually I just take a lavender bath." Her hands work down a little lower, the tips of her fingers ghosting over your under boob and you shiver, rolling your neck back. She takes this chance to press a kiss to your forehead.

"And does the bath help?" she inquires in a voice that is low as her hands slide down from your ribs to your stomach, applying light pressure. Her front is against your back and you can feel the weight of her breasts.

"Usually," you respond with, your worries slowly bleeding away, along with your ability to think. It just feels so good.

"I think I know how I can make the bath better," she suggests coyly and a bolt of arousal flares through your core at this just as her hands make their way up to your breasts, grabbing them possessively.

You get up from your seat so fast that Bellatrix's hands pull back as she takes a step back, worried she has done something to upset you. You grab her face and kiss her long and hard, nearly moaning at the sweet taste on her lips. "Let's go," you breathe out as you pull free and she shoots you a devious and cocky look.

On the way upstairs you discard your overalls, spending some time pressed up against the walls as Bellatrix delivered hot kisses, only stroking your passion higher. By the time you got to the bathroom there was a steady throb between your legs that you desperately wanted to seek relief for.

"Where's the bath liquid?" she asked, her voice also husky from the kisses as she looked all over for it.

"Here," you grab it from the sink top and push it at her frantically. She uncorked it and ran the tap full force, pouring the liquid in. it would take some time before it filled up, but you had a good way of making time pass. When she finished you grabbed her face in hers and straddled her lap, the two of you balancing precariously on the edge of the tub. The harshness of her denim black pants felt nice on your overly sensitive thighs and you rocked into her, her hands shooting out to grab the tub edge before she fell in.

"Careful there," she laughed as she pulled away from your lips.

"It's your fault," you growl out, raking hands through her hair and watching as her eyes fluttered shut. "You got me riled up."

A small groan left her mouth as you turned her head and pushed some hair aside so you could suck on the spot under her neck. You let go with a wet plop, satisfied to see that already a red mark was forming. "Then I guess we need to cool you down." And without warning, Bellatrix swiveled around and dropped you into the now half full tub.

You let out a squeak as lavender scent water washed over you. "Bellatrix!" you cry out but aren't actually upset.

She grins down at you, turning the top off, before she joins you in the tub, fully clothed. She hovers over you, her grin never leaving. "What? I thought you were supposed to be having a bath?"

"You are so childish," you huff back at her, drawing her in for a heated kiss. It leaves the both of you panting and you reaching to updo her top. There is only a slight tension in her shoulders and you know she is still worried of what you think of her scars but she doesn't say no, so you take the top off and toss it somewhere to the side. Her bra follows and you start playing with her mounds, loving how you can feel her heart beat under your fingers, strong and fast. With your mouth, you decorate her scars with reassuring kisses. Her eyes close at this and she hums in enjoyment.

You slide a leg up between her thighs and she eagerly rocks into it, before her eyes open up in realization. "I was supposed to be helping you relax and not the other way around."

"Doing art always relaxes me," you grin up at her and she flushes at those words. With her dark tresses full and majestic as the night, high cheekbones, aristocratic nose and full almost always ruby red lips, she looks like she just walked out of a painting. You want your fingers to be like the brush strokes, filling in and tracing every inch of her aesthetical form.

"Did anyone ever tell you how incredibly cheesy you are?" she growls down at you, nipping at your collarbone.

"You're the only one who makes me say such cheesy things."

"Good, I better be," is her possessive hiss before she bites down hard. Your back arches, pushing your breasts into hers. Water sloshes out of the tub and onto the floor as the two of you begin to writhe together, a frenzy of moans and kisses and fingers dipping into heated cores.

By the time the two of you finish, half the water in the tub has been displaced and the bathroom is a mess. But you can't find it in yourself to care. "Thank you. That really helped," you whisper to her as you stand up out of the tub, wrapping yourself up in a soft bath robe. You hand one to her as she gathers her discarded and soggy clothes from the floor, the jeans having joined them eventually.

"It was my pleasure, really," she chuckles and goes to nuzzle the side of your face. You sigh in contentment at her affection and let a hand stroke through her ebony curls, damp but still full. You still can't believe that you're in a relationship with her. Sometimes it seems like a dream. A dream you will have to wake up from. And soon.

For now, you're going to enjoy it to the max. "Let's go to sleep," you tell her and she nods her head, taking your hand and following you like a little lost kid to the bedroom. Together you curl up under the sheets, laying a kiss to Bellatrix's head as she curls up to your front.

* * *

Bellatrix insists on having the dinner as soon as possible so that it can be out of the way already and so that you can get on with your life.

"But I'm worried!" you had whined and Bellatrix had stemmed her hands on her hips.

"If you're worried what your friends will react like then don't be. Their not your real friends if they can't accept this part of you."

Her words, while angrily spoken, make sense and you have to give them some credence. "So, tomorrow the dinner it is," you say halfheartedly.

"Yes, now don't forget to send out the invitations. And I can get ready to buy all the ingredients I need to make the dishes." Bellatrix had offered to cook for the dinner, this way it could be held in the privacy of your home. In case something went wrong, it wouldn't be public.

The next day arrived sooner than you would have liked. You almost couldn't believe how quickly the time ran by. But here you are, seated at the table, a fake smile plastered to your face as you warily watch the faces of Ginny and Ron who were seated in front of you. Their eyes flicker back and forth to Bellatrix who is acting her most cordial. She's kept conversation flowing with Harry- bless your friend for being so talkative- and is trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed. You try to talk but find yourself stuttering a lot. Ginny eventually relaxes enough and joins in and you wonder if Bellatrix will make any snide comments to the red head like she usually does but she doesn't. You breath out a sigh of relief. But you're worried about the wrong red head because it turns out Bellatrix is saving her antagonism towards a different red head.

"You can drop the act," Ron mumbles out to Bellatrix around the bite of chicken she's cooked.

"Excuse me?" Bellatrix cocks her head as if she hasn't heard him.

"I know you're only acting this way to try to show that you've 'changed' but you haven't. I know you still hate me and Ginny."

"Now why ever would I think that?" Bellatrix asks in too innocent of a voice, swirling the dark wine in her glass carefully.

"Uh, Ron," Ginny cuts in uneasily. "Don't start this right now. Maybe she has gotten better-"

"Hermione," Ron brushes off Ginny's words. "I don't really know the procedure for therapy or the codes or whatever, but can't you see this is wrong? You have to see it. You can't date her."

You are so thrown off by Ron's ardent refusal to accept your relationship with Bellatrix. You know it's not exactly stemming from a healthy place but you're a grown adult and these decisions are yours to make. You set down your utensils, trying to come up with a good retort when Bella beats you to it.

"Upset?" Bellatrix hums, and you can see the switch in demeanor. Her happy smile and host attitude goes up in smoke. Her eyes glow malignantly and a dangerous aura settles over her; her possessiveness over you. "You're just mad you don't get to fuck Hermione like I do." The word fuck comes out raw from her mouth.

Your jaw drops open at her words as your face colors and Harry starts to choke on his food to your left. Ginny tries to not look mortified while Ron pales. "What?" he snarls.

Bellatrix leans forward, face cool. "Don't act like you don't like her. I know you do. I can sense your pathetic crush on her from here. So you're not really upset she's dating me, but that she's dating someone at all, and it's most bruising to your ego that it's a _woman._ "

Ron's mouth flaps open and closed for a couple of seconds before he sputters out, "Fuck you!"

Bellatrix bares her teeth in a smile. "No thanks, I prefer Hermione to do that to me." Harry who has just recovered from choking, chokes again, this time on a sip of water.

At this you drop your head into your hands. Was it so much to ask for a normal dinner? You want to travel back in time and prevent this entire dinner from ever happening.

Ron shoots you an evil look as you bring your hands away from your face. Well, it's time to act like an adult and pretend that this just never happened. You shrug at him and turn to Harry who has stopped choking. "Harry, how did that convention of yours go? Never got around to asking about it."

"Uh, it went well," he responds with, and you are aware that everyone is aware of you deflecting the question but you really don't want to deal with this right now. "You know, you should take Ginny along some time. She's training to be a psychologist and I think it would be great exposure if you took her to an event."

This makes Harry and Ginny engage in conversation and leaves you alone to your thoughts and food. Bellatrix is grinning smugly, you note from the corner of your eye, happy in having asserted dominance over you, while Ron glares at his food, stabbing down harshly on it.

You couldn't be happier when it all ends and you get up and help Bellatrix clear the dishes. "I think dinner went splendidly," she says and you can't help but let out a sarcastic, "yes, really, superb. Especially the part when you told everyone of our night time activities."

Bellatrix frowns at this, surprised. "You're upset."

"Of course I am!" you hiss out quietly, aware that the guests are just in the room over and can hear the two of you if you raise your voices too high. "That's not good table conversation."

Bellatrix rolls her eyes. "Stop being such a prude. And besides, I had to let Ron know. He was still interested in you and no one gets to have you but me. I had to make it clear," is her possessive whisper and you really shouldn't encourage such behaviors from her but damn, it was hot on her. The way her eyes got darker and her voice rougher.

She pinned you against the sink, lips seeking out yours, tongue searching entrance. You let it in, the two of your tongues battling for dominance. But you let her win this time, let out a small whimper as she placed her hands on your hips gentively and sucked your tongue into her mouth.

An awkward cough broke the two of you apart and you jumped apart to see Ginny standing there, blushing like a beet at having seen the two making out. "Just wanted to say, thanks for the dinner. Me and Ron are going to go now. And sorry for his behavior. He can be a bit thick headed."

"That he is," Bellatrix affirmed, slinging an arm around your waist and keeping it there. "But you're not so bad yourself Wendy's."

Ginny bristles at this. "I'm not Wendy's! Don't call me that!"

Bellatrix raised two hands up in defense. "Okay...Pippi Longstocking!"

"You are unbearable! Hermione, how do you deal with her...she's such a brat!"

You sigh and shake your head. "Honestly, she just wore me down. I'm used to it all."

"You said something about wanting to leave? Let me show you the door," Bellatrix purred in fake cordiality to Ginny.

"I can find it myself, thank you very much." She stomps off and Bellatrix sticks out a tongue at her back.

"Behave," you chide her. "I don't understand why you can't get along with her."

"I just don't like her. You ever feel that about a person? You just meet them and you know you will hate them?"

"I wouldn't know. Never felt that way," you turn back to the dirty plates waiting in the sink. You turn on the water and grab a sponge and start scrubbing. Bellatrix leans on the counter next to you, watching you work. Goodbyes being exchanged can be heard from the dining room. Harry is staying over for a bit longer, given that he doesn't have work tomorrow.

"Hmm, a shame," the raven haired woman says in disregard after an extended pause, eyes elsewhere now, contemplating. You don't think she believes you, and maybe you don't believe yourself either.

Loud voices sound from the dinning room; unfamiliar ones. What is going on there? You step out of the kitchen, still wiping at the plate in your hands. Bellatrix trails after you. Standing in your dinning room are two cops. Immediately your throat dries up. Ginny and Ron stand next to them, apologetic looks on their faces. "Sorry, we were leaving and they were at the door and said they were looking for someone in this residence."

"I bet its Bellatrix." Ron's face is smug. "What did you do this time?"

But Bellatrix arches a brow. "Nothing that would get me in trouble."

Your heart pounds in your chest. Did she really do something? Something she hadn't told you about? Shit, this dinner just kept getting worse and worse. You try to meet her eyes but she avoids you, looking straight ahead. Did this have something to do with those 'friends' of hers she was talking about?

"We're not here for a woman named Bellatrix," frowns the burlier of the two men. "But someone by the name of Granger."

"What?" your voice is so quiet you don't even think anyone else heard you. Your heart stutters to a stop before it leaps back awake, going like a jackhammer in your chest.

"A Hermione Granger," adds the skinny cop, fixing his hat on his head properly.

Everyone's eyes in the room swivel to you.

"That's me. But...for what?" you ask softly, hands stilling on the plate. You know what this is for, fearing it ever since the day you found about the murder of Cygnus Black. Still the words catch you off guard.

"For being a possible suspect in the murder of Cygnus Black."

The plate drops from your hand and shatters on the floor.

 **A/N: I might be going on a mini break (not after this chapter but the next. I'm not evil enough to do it on such a cliff hanger) so that I can focus on writing the ending arc of this series. I want to make sure all plot lines are accounted for and that the ending is just how I want it to be. I'm glad to report the ending will be a happy one, though it will be a bumpy ride to get there, as per true Bellamione fashion.**


	34. Chapter 34

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session Thirty Four: I Don't Wanna be Alone Tonight_

 **A/N: Uhm, this chapter wasn't supposed to take this long to come out but I just wasn't happy with it and had to heavily edit it. Good news is, I've got another chapter lined up and I'm posting it up in like 3-5 days.**

 **This is my take on Hermione's past; it's intense like everything else. Potential trigger warnings for self harm in this, so read with caution.**

You sat in the interrogation room, breathing rapidly and hands sweating. You felt like you were going to have a panic attack. _What the fuck do I tell the cops? I haven't come up with a legit excuse for why the fuck I was there. And even if I tell them the truth, they'd want to know why I didn't report the assault on me and Bellatrix. Shit, shit, shit. I fucking hate all this!_

You could feel bile crawling up your throat. You wished Bellatrix was here with you, but they hadn't let her come, even as she begged and threatened them. _She must be freaking out of her mind right now as well._

The sound of the door opening made you jump so high you nearly bolted out of the chair. You were so high strung that anything was enough to startle you. The door hadn't even opened up that loudly. The cop that came in gave a light chuckle. "Jumpy, eh?" He had an Irish accent.

You shoot him an evil glare, resenting him for you being here. You settled down into the chair again and tried to act more composed but your nerves made your hands shake. "Don't worry, I won't bite. This is just standard procedure." He took the chair in front of you, it screeching against the floor and making you want to clamp your hands over your ears. Right now, everything was too loud, and this room was too dim and too bright at the same time, the steel table and chairs reflecting the light of the singular bulb in the room, but leaving the corners of the room dark. It was aggravating.

"Recently there was a double homicide in the residency of Cygnus Black and Druella Black's house. While scanning the scene we found your blood in this room, along with your prints," at this he slid two colored pictures out of the folder he had brought with him. They showed the room you had been attacked by the dogs in. Dried blood-your blood- was on the walls and doors. You feel sick at the memory of the vicious attack.

He looks at the pale expression on your face and waits for you to say something. When you don't, he sighs and sits back in his chair. "If you don't explain to us what happened here, then we will be forced to consider you an accomplice to the murder. But if there is a reason as to why you were here in the house, all those weeks ago, with your blood and prints all over the place, then you have nothing to worry about."

You nod your head solemnly at this; robotically. You want to tell him you know who did it, but what if you're wrong. You had jumped to the conclusion Luna could have done it, but Druella could just as easily been the perpetrator. She had suffered from years of abuse at her husband's hands. And she was always locked up in her room. There was no telling how mentally imbalanced she was. And it made more sense for her to do it, rather than Luna going out of her way to do this. She wasn't a murderer. "I-"

The door opening stops you. "Brian, come here a moment," the cop on the other end insists and Brian gets up and leaves you alone in the room with only your thoughts as company. You quickly try to piece a story together, debating between telling the truth and lying when he comes back in.

"Looks like you're free to go."

"What?" you breathe out in a gasp of relief.

"Turns out there was a mistake. There was none of your blood found at the scene." He stares blankly at you and you can't tell if he's fucking with you or not.

"What?" you breathe out again.

He props open the door. "You can go now," he reiterates. "Good day."

"O-kay," you shakily get to your feet and leave the room, casting a look over your shoulder, watching him to see if he is joking. But he simply closes the door behind you and heads down the hall to his office. You stand in the hallway, lost as to what the fuck just happened.

Still in shock, you numbly make your way to the exit, since no one is waiting to take you for another interrogation. When you get outside the building, you see Bellatrix's familiar figure leaning against the light pole. She's wearing a black leather jacket and there is a dangerous aura around her, her face hard.

"Hermione," she greets, getting off the pole and meeting you at the bottom step. You stop right on the step above hers. "Are you okay?"

"I don't fucking know." You stare at her, wide eyed. "I thought I was going to be in so much shit...but then he just said I...that it wasn't my blood at the scene." When Bellatrix doesn't say anything, the synapses in your head snap together. "You did that?"

"I told you I take care of the ones I love." A hand comes up to stroke your cheek. "But the idiot wasn't supposed to take this long. Because of his procrastination, you had to go through something stressful like this. And I'm sorry for that."

"Bellatrix," you start in a shaky voice. "Who are these friends of yours?"

She purses her lips. "Is there a problem with that, pet?"

"Yes. They sound dangerous. You shouldn't be associating with people such as these!" She knew people who could do something like make the police turn a blind eye? That was terrifying. It almost sounded like she was friends with the mafia. "Is it the mafia?" you waver out and you can see her shutting down, can see her eyes go blank. "Tell me, is it them? Is it?" your voice goes up in pitch as she turns on her heel and starts to head down the block.

"Bellatrix! Bellatrix!" you rush down after her, grabbing her by the wrist. "Why won't you tell me?" you spin her around and her lips curl up in choler.

"Why can't you just be fucking grateful and shut up?!" she cries out.

"Because I'm worried for you. I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I won't." She slips her wrist free. You stand where you are, watching her leave until she turns the corner and is gone.

You realize with cold crushing clarity that there is so much you don't know about her. You thought you had her figured out, but there is a thick blanket of mystery that surrounds her and her actions and her thoughts. You've only gained the minuscule amount of knowledge you have about her, only because she let you. She's effectively kept the rest of her life away from you; her real life.

You gasp in a shuddering breath. Who is _she?_

* * *

Your worry and shock turns into curiosity and you turn to the computer in order to gleam some information about Bellatrix. You don't really know much about her before she came to you, other than the disorders she had been diagnosed with. But there is barely anything at all online about her, even though you are aware she should have a criminal record for minor instances of public misconduct and assault. But there is nothing there. Nothing except for a Wiki page on Narcissa Malfoy that has Bellatrix accredited as her sister. You clink on the link of their third sister, Andromeda, but there isn't much on the page either. You wonder how someone with so much presence in real life can be virtually a ghost online. Unless she had her records erased by one of her friends.

Not even when you type in her old surname does anything come up. This is most concerning. What can you do about it? Maybe you can give her a call, get her to somehow open up to you? You can't stand the thought of her being friends with criminals and using their perks to influence things such as police cases. Sure, you were glad to be out of that room, but it shouldn't have been like this. It shouldn't.

Maybe you could outright talk to Narcissa about this? Your finger is hovering over her number when you hear the window shut and close. Bellatrix leans on the closed glass pane, her facial expression begrudging, like she doesn't want to be here.

"You wanted to know about me?" she asks, tipping her head back so she's looking down her nose at you. Her hair has droplets of water on it as does her leather jacket; it must be drizzling outside. You quickly and guilty close your laptop, hoping she didn't see what you were looking at.

"I wanted to know about your friends," you vaguely state. "Because from the looks of it, they sound-"

"Dangerous?" Bellatrix finishes, arching her brow. "They're my friends Hermione, and they were there for me in my roughest times. They understood me, what it felt like to be scorned by society, and they took me into their wings when my own family wouldn't even dare to breath the same air as me for fear of catching my mental disorders."

She sighs at this, walking up to you, hands fluffing out her curls, shedding droplets. "So they're like family to me. They might not be the best and purest of people, but they want to repent for their actions, just like I do. They just don't have the necessary means for it. And we always do favors for each other. So they owned me something and I told them to get the cops off your case because I know how much it was stressing you out."

"What sorts of favors do they ask of you?" you ask softly, craning your neck up to look at her. She's so close that her knees are touching yours. She's blocking out most of the light in the room as she leans forward, hands cradling the arms of your chair. You sink back into your seat.

"You are a greedy girl, pet," one corner of her mouth smirks even though there is no amusement in her eyes. And the way she phrases it makes you want to rub your thighs together. It's not fair how sexy her voice can be even as she's trying to be serious. "You can't always find out each facet of a person's past, because sometimes you just have to be there to experience it. And sometimes, its kept hidden for a good reason."

"And what's your reason behind hiding it?" you breathe, her lips hovering so close in front of you that you can almost feel them on yours.

"My reason is that I want to protect the identities of the men and women who cherish me like a family member. I don't need to bring extra judgment down upon them. Just trust me. I've made many bad life choices, but these friends aren't part of them." Her eyes beg you to understand.

"I don't know...I'm just worried for you," you sigh out and she leans in and pecks you on the cheek quickly. "Don't be. They won't ever do anyone harm. And besides, they're a thing of the past, when I didn't have amazing people like you to help me out." This time she pecks your other cheek. You flush at her praise.

"I still would feel better if you didn't do such a thing," you are not going to give up easily.

"You don't want me to talk to them?" she rears back at this, confusion etched upon her face. And hurt.

"I already told you I'm worried for you. And if you have me now, then surely you don't need them." You gaze up imploringly to her and she looks like she wants to retort, to say no. But she doesn't. She just closes her mouth and smiles. "Fair point." And then she leans in and kisses you slow and languid. You can feel the kiss sear a path right down to your navel. "You do give the best hands on help, after all," she whispers as she parts.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for your help, no matter how shady and illegal it was. So let me do so now," you husk, wanting her on your lap, the feel of her breasts in your hands, her lips on your ear.

She gives a little pant of excitement and straddles your lap, you sliding her jacket off in one smooth motion.

By the time the both of you finish, you're both laid out on the floor, spent and trying to catch your breath. "Next time, let's _not_ use the chair," Bellatrix suggests.

"Yea. Now I have to buy a new one." Apparently a chair couldn't stand up to the combined passions of you two. You lazily reach over and grab your shirt, sitting up to slide it on. Beside you Bellatrix starts doing the same, buttoning up her collared shirt. Marks that you've left on her skin getting covered up by black thin cloth.

"You know, I don't know much about you either Hermione," Bellatrix starts up out of the blue, making you pause in the process of sliding your underwear on.

"What do you mean? You know me well enough. You can read me better than a book. You know about my past with my bullies, and with my struggle to be a good psychologist."

"Yes, I can read you and I could potentially read into the rest of your past, but I think it's only fair for you to tell me. You want me to be open with you, but you won't do the same with me." She trails a hand to your face, cupping it and turning it to face her.

You feel uncomfortable with her demand, with her intense stare. "I don't know. I'm not...there's nothing else to really discuss." You avoid her gaze as you say this.

"Come now, pet," she purrs. "Surely it's nothing as bad as what I've done. You know all the naughty things I've been up to because of my files. But I'm curious about you. I don't want this relationship to be all about me. I feel like you're not disclosing enough of yourself because you feel as if you are still my therapist to some degree. But you're not. You're more than that. You're my girlfriend. Someone I want to spend the future and present with. And the past, when we delve into our memories," she says and her voice is so calm and seductive that it lures you into wanting to share your past with her. But can you? Should you? You are afraid to. What if she will judge you for it? You've done terrible things...things that you are ashamed of. That left a stain on your soul.

Still, you do suppose you owe her the truth in some aspect. She deserves to know if she is dating you; in fact you should have told her from the start. But it isn't easy to say, to admit to not being as perfect or innocent as you would like to seem. You sigh and she can see you've come to a decision because she lets go of your face so that you can swivel your body to face her, hands on your lap.

"It's...go ahead and ask me. But don't expect me to go into too much detail."

"Very well," Bellatrix mimics your position and her eyes roll up to the sky as she thinks before they drop down to you. "Tell me about your parents."

You physically wince at this. She certainly got right to the point. She notices your reaction and snorts almost as if in accepted disbelief that she got it right, but unable to be happy about it. "I sure hit the nail on the head, didn't I?"

"Yea. Hit more than a nail," you awkwardly chuckle and look down at your lap. She's patient and waits for you to speak.

"They...I loved them. I loved my parents. My father was a dentist. And my mother, started off as a dentist but then turned to being the owner of a bakery store. My dad was strong and kind and he always read me articles from the news, or passages from highly complicated books, or bought me puzzles to help work my brain. He was an intelligent man, someone I looked up to. He never raised a hand against me or my mother.

"My mother was just as smart as him, and just as hardworking. She would always smell like bread or sweets and her hands were as warm as an oven. She would always bring me a little snack from the bakery. She dressed me in pinks and frills and did my hair. But we didn't always have to do girly stuff. She also loved sports, hockey especially, and she would always try to get me into it, but I never could enjoy it, could never understand why people loved the carnage of it." You take a pause here, almost smelling the scent of warm bread and baked goods. Hearing the cheer of the hockey game from the TV. Hearing the turning of the pages as your father flipped the paper.

"They always took such great care of me, took me on trips with them. They respected me as a kid, even as I told them stupid stories or showed them my ugly drawings. They would listen with great interest and take the paintings and put them up on the fridge."

"What happened?" Bellatrix asks softly; you had almost forgotten she was here, so wrapped up in your memories you were. You pick up your eyes to look at her, seeing compassion in her black gaze, her beseeching you wordlessly into sharing, into trusting her. And maybe you could trust her, more than you could trust anyone else, even Harry.

"They're dead," you whisper out.

"Tell me," she prompts.

"I killed them."

The declaration hangs in the air with all the might of a bomb being dropped. But Bellatrix's gaze never wavers; her face does not turn in disgust. Instead her interest is piqued.

"How?" she whispered quietly, leaning forward on her hands, her eyes greedily searching your face.

"This was around the time when I first entered middle school. My parents quickly found out I was being bullied. But I was ashamed by this. I didn't want them to know that I was a victim, that I wasn't smart enough to stay away from such matters. I was arguing with them on the street a block or two away from the free way." Here you take a pause for breath. For some reason your chest feels light. It doesn't hurt to say this, not as much as you thought it would- what you mean is that it's not killing you to speak. So the words tumble out of you one after the other.

"I didn't want to listen to my parents words; I was so ashamed they knew and I just couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle their self righteous attitude. They were scolding me, telling me how could I be so stupid to get mixed up with all of that. And I was crying and upset and I wanted to end myself right then and there. Had wanted to end myself for a while." Your eyes lower to your lap, and you fiddle with your hands.

"So I ran away despite the lights not being green, thinking this would be a good way to go. Thinking I at least had seen them in my last moments. I made it halfway across the street. My father didn't." Your voice tapers off at the end as the scene flashes before your eyes. That day is forever burned into your minds eyes.

 _Hermione ran, ran away from her family's judgmental words and faces. Her arm was thrown over her countenance, trying to stem the tears that streamed freely. Her sobs were so loud she could barely hear the roar of the passing by motors, or the frantic cries from her parent telling her to wait, to turn around. She knew the danger she was running into, but in this moment, she was so ashamed that death suddenly seemed like an appropriate alternative._

 _But her tears weren't loud enough to cover up the sudden screech of tires. The cry of pain. Only then did Hermione stop running. Only then did she turn around. And she saw her father lying flat on the street, blood pooling around him, his eyes staring uselessly at the sky. The driver of the car had gotten out and his hands were on his head and he was going "oh god" over and over again. Or maybe that had been Hermione's mom, who had fallen to her knees in shock and grief. Or maybe it had been Hermione herself saying it. She didn't know. In this moment, she just didn't know anything._

 _Hermione's sobs hadn't been loud enough, but the scream that ripped from her throat were enough to drown out even the heavens._

"And how did that make you feel?" Bellatrix hisses, morbid fascination in her voice.

"The grief of having survived and having him die was so bad...it ate at me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't do anything. It was supposed to be me and not him." Your voice cracks at this and you shake your head, feeling tears press at the backs of your eyes. You had thought you would be strong enough to continue, but its getting too painful. You need to stop. You want to curl up into a little ball and go to sleep, to forget this has even happened. "I can't...I can't go on with this..." you tell Bellatrix. You thought it wouldn't have been this painful but it is; the agony sneaking up on you.

"Finish it," she insists, her voice hard.

"I can't," you shake your head. She grabs your chin roughly, nails digging in. Forcing you to look at her. Her eyes are dark, feral.

"Finish it," she growls.

"I can't-"

"Finish the fucking story!" her sharp voice snarls, scaring you, and you let out a gasping breath.

"Okay, okay," you appease, wiping tears away with the back of your hands, and she lets go. "After all that, my mother blamed me. Blamed me for my father's death, and I didn't begrudge her this. I had acted stupidly. I had caused his death by trying to take my own life. And the sick irony was that having come so close to death, I didn't want to die now. I wanted to live more than ever. But my mother didn't feel the same way. She began to drink heavily, couldn't focus on work. She belittled me every chance she got. Beat me. She had loved my father greatly. Loved him more than life itself, for two years after his death she took her own life.

"And I watched her do it. I stood there as she stood upon the chair, and tied the noose on her neck. I stood there quietly and did nothing because I thought she didn't deserve to live a life like that, stuck with me."

Another flashback.

 _Hermione stood in the kitchen, watching the frenzied woman get to work, tying the thick rope into a noose. "You made me do this. You drove me to this. Just like you drove your father to his early grave. I hope you suffer for the rest of your life for what you put us through." With a savage jerk the knot was complete and Hermione's mother turned around so that she could stare her daughter in her eyes as she slipped the rope over her neck._

 _Hermione watched with dead eyes, knowing that there was nothing she could say or do to fix this. "Fuck you," her mother uttered out with as much viciousness as she could, with as much hatred, before she kicked the chair away._

 _Hermione watched as the woman choked and gasped for breath, her hands scrambling at the rope, her body's survival instincts kicking in. But it stopped soon and only the creak of the rope filled the house before Hermione went and dutifully picked up the phone to call the cops._

"She was dead, he was dead. I was all alone," you can't stop a sob ripping open from your chest. "I got sent by child services to live with my aunt, but she couldn't give less than a fig about me. I was left to deal with my own problems. Left to wallow in pity and depression." More and more sobs are building up in your chest and you feel like you will burst if you keep them in. Tears are streaming from your eyes and gut wrenching pain infused with guilt and hurt fill you.

"You were a very naughty young girl." Bellatrix coos into your ear, her breath warm and ghosting over the shell. "You've been alone for so long. No one to turn to, but now you have me. Tell me, do you hate yourself? Do you despise yourself for what you have done? You caused two people's deaths. Two good people's deaths. Your mother and father's," she drives this point home and there is something almost disconcerting in the ways she speaks. But you don't pick up on any of this, because she is right there and you need someone to touch and talk to.

"I hat-e-e m-mmyself- so-ooo-o much," you blubber out as suddenly the dam breaks free and you are sobbing and whining and letting out other pitiful noises. You can feel the pain of all this crashing through you. You are crying so hard that your whole frame is shaking, that you can barely make any sense.

"There, there," Bellatrix hugs you and you cling to her as if she can save you. "Let it all out. I bet you've never talked about this with anyone before."

You shake your head no. You've never told this to anyone, for who would even care. You just bottled it all up. One day you had the luck of coming across some psychology texts online. Reading all the stories of other people and how messed up they were, made you feel better about your own life and before you even knew it, you were addicted to psychology. You were reading up on it left and right, trying to figure out how to get rid of your own issues. You psychoanalyzed yourself and built up great coping methods to deal with such stresses. It helped you survive.

Any unwanted baggage you would pack away into a box in your head and leave it there. But such heavy baggage only had grown heavier and by opening it up and airing the moldy and rotting contents, you had done something better than ignoring it for the rest of your life.

"You need to come to terms with this self hatred. Don't let it take a hold of you. The bullying, the death of your parents. It all made you want to kill yourself, didn't it." Bellatrix pulls away at this, her hands coming to grasp your wrist. She picks it up and holds it in her line of sight. "You'd attempted to kill yourself after that incident even though you claimed to love life. But not by slitting your wrists," she lowers your unblemished flesh.

"I took a bottle of pills. Had to get my stomach pumped," you say, taking deep heaving breaths. You feel spent but calm now. Having gotten all the hard stuff off of your chest. "I wanted to live, but I felt like others didn't want me to live, so I did it to appease them. But I realized I couldn't go through with that either. So I called for help in the nick of time."

"Such a cowardly girl," Bellatrix murmurs, tracing a hand absentmindedly over your stomach, as if imagining the pills being pumped out. "But it saved your life in the end. And because of all that I got to meet you. And for that I am grateful. So don't hate yourself, but don't forget to hang onto your hatred."

This confuses you. "Why?" you ask, the remnants of tears leaking from your lashes. Your nose is stuffy and you sniffled heavily.

"Because it's a part of you. A beautiful part of you," she says, almost poetically. Her hands trails up to your collarbone now. "Hatred after all, is beauty. For there must be so much emotion and thought and suffering that goes into hating something as much as you do, that it is the highest and most brightest of passions. It consumes you, fuels your actions."

"Bellatrix, you're not making any sense," you shake your head and she places a finger to your lips, stopping you.

"Don't you see? For you don't really hate yourself, but others. You hate your father for following after you. You hate your mother for killing herself. You hate your bullies, for hurting you. You hate your aunt for her negligence. But most of all, you hate everyone, ever single last person on this planet. Except for maybe Harry," she throws his name in last minute before she goes on. "That's why you went into psych. Not to help others. And not to help yourself, although it did stem from that at the start. But mostly, to seek retribution on those who hurt you. On the world which turned its back on you, leaving you alone." At this she places her forehead against yours and her dark eyes take up all your line of vision. Her hands curl up on your cheeks. All you can see is her, all you can feel is her and all you can hear is her.

"No one ever understood you. Nobody wanted to be your friend. Even though you tried. Even though you had just what everyone else did. You wanted to be able to manipulate them into liking you. Into being your friends, just like other people manipulated their charisma to draw crowds of admirers in. But that didn't really work out well. You can't manipulate healthy people. Their minds are too strong, their wills unbendable. But sick people," at this she gave a breathy chuckle and your heart began to pound in your chest as her words began to sink in, to ooze in through your ears, slide in under your skin like a thick sludge. Was this true? Was this what your whole life had been about-wanting to control people?

"Sick people are weak. They don't know what they're doing and they look to therapists for guidance. Therapists who are supposed to be looking out for their best interests. And you did that, of course. You delivered on your promise to help others. But you didn't help people because you were being charitable, but because it finally gave you the ability to have others hanging onto your every word, have others respect you and look up to you. Because after all these years, it was finally you who had the power in the relationship. Oh sure, your friends and coworkers love you now. But it wasn't always like this."

"Bellatrix, I didn't do such a thing-" you stammer out, horrified by her words even as they resonate with you.

"I didn't finish," she tells you. "You may not have thought this consciously, but its always been there, simmering under your subconscious, this need for retaliation, for getting your due. Its what has driven you; its what fuels your competitiveness. You just never knew it- or refused to, because it disgusted you."

"Then...then what about you? Did you think I wanted to control you?"

"You didn't." She smirks at this. "Because I had had enough of that shit with other therapists. I was done with being manipulated, with coming out with new issues that I most certainly didn't have. I fought back against it."

She draws back at this and you gulp in a fresh breath of air. "Holy fuck," you exclaim, not sure what had just happened but feeling as if the earth had shattered into a million pieces and then been rebuilt. "Is this really what I've been doing my whole career?" you look down at your hands as if seeing them for the first time. They look strange, as if they're not yours.

Bellatrix watches you calmly, almost smugly, as if she had done a job well. "I'm sure it wasn't your whole career and I'm sure you didn't really mean to do it. And I'm sorry to have been the one to tell you this, but it had to be said. I'm sorry to have ruined your veil of obliviousness." She seems almost truly devastated at those words.

"No, no," you gasp, your mind still reeling. You feel like the world is spinning around you. You feel like you're made of glass right now. "It's...thank you for telling me. I never wanted to...well, I guess maybe I did, to control these people. I need to make amends. I need to reevaluate everything I've been doing." You look up at Bellatrix. "That was really incredible. You got to the root of my problems in only one therapy session. It's such a shame you aren't a therapist. You could have helped more people. _So_ many people. You could have even been my supervisor. And I could have studied under you."

"No need to ramble. I know I'm pretty awesome," she wrinkles her nose up and sticks out her tongue. "Now let's get you to bed. You need to rest after this turmoil. You need to ruminate on my words."

"Sure," you sigh and get up, a bit wobbly on your feet. Bellatrix comes up and supports you. "Have you done this one anyone else?" you ask.

She's quiet a moment, before she twists out her lips and admits, "Tom Riddle."

You turn big eyes to her. "You psychoanalyzed him?"

She nods her head ruefully. "Yes."

"How was it?"

"It...was unpleasant," she says softly, eyes distant.

You can sense a story behind this; some deep buried truth. "What happened?"

"Not now. You're not emotionally stable enough to do so."

"That better not be a cop out."

"It's not. I actually promise to tell you what happened with him. All of it." Her face is pale. She brings you to your room and lays down on the bed with you. "For now get some rest."

Curiosity burns up at you, but you do as she asks and sink into soft sheets. You feel freshly cleansed by talking to her. You didn't know Bellatrix was well versed in Gestalt Therapy. Granted, it wasn't popular as much anymore, but it must have been in the heyday when she was training to be a psychologist. It truly was a shame she hadn't made it through the process and you swear for the umpteenth time that you would get to the bottom of what Riddle did to her; now it seemed she wanted to openly help so you were hoping her offer was genuine.

Nestled in her warm hold you drift off to sleep.

 **A/N: Gestalt therapy is a very invasive form of therapy; it is meant to make the patient feel uncomfortable so that they lash out, or have giant emotional outbursts that help them arrive to their realizations. This is what Bella did here somewhat to help Hermione understand herself more, because she's been repressing all of her emotions deeply even though she acts like being rejected by society doesn't affect her when it totally does.**


	35. Chapter 35

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 35: Riddle me This Tom_

 **A/N: At long last, the truth on Tom Riddle comes out.**

You sit at the kitchen counter the next morning, raising a steam of hot coffee to your lips. It's black and totally bitter and not the way you usually drink it, but you find yourself needing the acrid taste. For some reason the thought of something sweet right now turns your appetite off. Maybe it has to do with the bitter revelations of last night? Or because you are ready to hear whatever bitter truths Bellatrix has to say about Tom right now.

"Ready?" she asks you, and it's odd how you once would have been asking her this question, would have watched her carefully compose herself before opening her mouth. Now, she is the one asking you because you must ready yourself for what she will say next from her tragic backdrop.

"Yes," you nod your head and tighten your hold on your mug and push away your own musings on your state of why you became a therapist in order to make space for Bellatrix's words.

She settles down next to you, stirring a spoon in her mug of coffee. She's over-poured the milk and it's a light brown shade that matches your hair. She takes the spoon out, licks the liquid from it and then finally brings her eyes up to you. "Where to begin," she musses, tapping a finger to her chin as her eyes go distant and her voice takes on that story telling quality- husky and low. "It was the summer, and my third year of grad school. I was working on my doctorate for psychology. You already know this, but I wanted to be a therapist, working with those in mental health asylums. The graduate program I worked for was very small. There were only a handful of us, with me being the only woman. Naturally, I suffered quite a lot of derisive and sexist behavior for this. But I didn't care, I was used to fighting the opinions of men, had gotten quite a thick skin for it thanks to my abusive father. And I had the support of my colleagues who were amazed with the project and research I was working on." Here Bellatrix paused to take a sip of her drink and you held your breath, knowing that she was only stalling before delving into deeper memories. More painful memories.

"I was in a class with Peter Pettigrew, Amycus Carrow, Antonin Dolhov, and Tom Riddle." Her eyes glaze over and you take this moment to notice the bags under her eyes. It doesn't look like she has slept at all. And when you had woken up the bed sheets next to you had been unruffled and cold. You can imagine her staying up, unable to sleep for the thoughts running in her head. "You know who those men are, correct?"

You nod your head yes. You know of Peter, Amycus and Tom. You went to see them at a panel not long ago with Harry. The only one you don't know is- "I haven't heard anything of Antonin."

"There's a reason for that. Keep that in the back of your mind as I continue this story."

You swallow harshly, a feeling on imminence hovering over you.

"I..." she pauses, thinks over her words and instead of carefully formulating them, of trying to tell them in a story like manner, she just spits them out giving up on any semblance of propriety. "I was in love with Tom Riddle."

You are silent and you let her continue, not wanting to break the conversation, afraid that if you do she will suddenly not want to talk anymore. Though you cannot imagine Bellatrix with him. They just don't...seem to mesh. "He was a charming young man. Gregarious, smart, handsome and just so dedicated to his work, everything I ever wanted in a man. He was my first friend at the program. Took me in under his wing, told me we had each other's backs and would always look out for each other because the world was a rough place. He revealed to me his orphaned past, how his mother used to beat him, had seduced and trapped his father in marriage because of pregnancy. His father was negligent at best of times, and eventually left, done with this sham of a marriage. Tom was the first person outside of my family that I told about my abusive father and the dogs. I told him because I thought I could trust him. And I had at the time. Utterly, blindingly. There was just something around him that made me feel safe.

"And I was loyal to him to a fault. I would do anything for him. And I did. If he needed money, I'd lend some to him even if there was never a hope of being repaid. I did his work for him when he'd come to me and tell me he just didn't have the inspiration or the time before the deadlines. I'd even come running when he needed me to do something in the middle of the night, some small insignificant thing like buy him his favorite tea because it had run out. And I was a fool for loving him," said so bitterly it made your own mouth taste like ashes. "But I did, because he had shown me understanding, kindness, and didn't treat me like a delicate woman, but like a woman who was intelligent, who could do things by her own right."

She shook her head here. "The first two years were amazing. I followed him around like a damned lap dog, licking up any crumbs of affection he offered my way. And I was too enamored in him, too wrapped up in his world, to notice what he was really after. And it was my own work.

"I was one of the most brilliant minds at the time and my research on environmental factors correlating to mental illness were break through for the time. And Tom's work, ha!" she let out a dark laugh here. "His was laughable compared to mine. The bastard didn't have a single creative bone in his body. I was getting a lot of prestige, his prestige, and he couldn't stand it. For all his toting that woman were equal with men, he was jealous that my work was superior to his. So he laid his trap. Sugared me up with words and almost amorous actions. His cronies, Peter and Amycus went along with it, in on his secret plan for the three of them to steal my work. The only one who wasn't in with them was Antonin. The poor sweet man. He tried to warn me but did I listen to him? No." She shook her head again, black curls bouncing. You sip from your mug, wrapping your fingers around it to draw strength from the warmth. You know things are going to take an ugly turn.

"He told me he had over heard Tom's plan with the others and wanted me to stop it, to wake up from the trance Tom had on me. But I thought he was lying. I thought he was trying to break me and Tom up, for when Tom saw what Antonin was doing, he asked me to be his girlfriend so he would have me further wrapped up in his grasp. In this way, he could keep an eye on me at all times, and have further access to my work. But Antonin didn't stop trying to fight for me. I shoved him off, tried to get him to stop annoying me. But he didn't stop. He didn't stop until one day, it was over for him."

Here Bellatrix takes so big of a pause, looking past you into some past hazed scene, that you feel the urge to prompt her, curiosity burning in your veins. "And then what happened?"

"He was found dead."

The words clang in your head, cold and vicious. An innocent man, dead because of Tom Riddle. Your whole perspective is changing on that man. All your respect, lost for him. You need to call Harry. Need to tell him what happened. Need to get him away from that sick man.

Something wet glimmers in Bellatrix's eyes. "I should have done more to prevent this...but I just couldn't. And by the time I saw the truth...it was too late."

"Oh Bellatrix, I'm so sorry," you start but she cuts you off with a sharp hand. "There's more."

You nod your head, sit back in your chair and save your comforting words for later.

"Before the big day when our cumulative research would come to light, to be presented in front of everyone, we had to do a therapy session on each other using Gestalt Therapy as a side project. I was to do Tom and he was to do me. And during that session, horrible things came to light. I found out that he was just like my father, but worse. For his abuse didn't lay in his hands and feet, but in his words, in the way he used them to toy with my emotions. And when I told Tom my findings, he blew up on me, breaking up with me and saying that he wouldn't go out with someone so distrusting of him. He couldn't see what was wrong with him; he thought he was the best person alive. He had Narcissism personality disorder." Bellatrix closed her eyes here briefly and you want to reach out and touch her, but the touch might disrupt what she is going through and so you hold back, fisting your hands. "I wish I had seen it earlier. But all I wanted was to be loved, and to be respected. Was that so much to ask?"

You don't know if Bellatrix is asking you, or if it's a rhetorical question, so you say nothing.

She goes on after a heavy sigh. "I was so confused about the whole thing. I was heartbroken. And then the final straw was pulled. Tom took my research and claimed it as his own and presented it in front of the board. _My_ research. The research I worked my ass off on!" her voice is low and dangerous, rumbling in her throat. "When I revolted against that, when I told them it was mine, nobody listened to me. Peter and Amycus were on his side, naturally, and even the professors were too. Because what woman could do such intelligent work. Everything I had worked hard for, gone, and me getting kicked out of the program because I was trying to blatantly plagiarize someone else's work." She scoffs, shakes her head in disbelief. The wounds from this event are still here and they are bleeding right now.

"And to top it off, do you know what that mother fucker did to me?" she sits up, anger ablaze in her eyes. You hope she doesn't throw a temper tantrum, that she has come far from her casual anger. But she holds true, your help aiding her in keeping from lashing out physically. You are proud of her.

"What did he do?"

"He had me sentenced as clinically insane," the verdict drips from her lips like poison. Because it is. Such a claim of this nature can end careers. "All the time we were dating, he kept a journal. A journal chronicling my insanity. My mood swings, my violence towards him, my death threats to all men in this world. He kept a fake fucking journal about my insanity. He told them he loved me, but that he couldn't take it anymore and had to break up with me because I was going to ruin his life. The administration in the school clearly couldn't keep someone so insane in their program, couldn't let them become a therapist, so they kicked me out and sent me to a psych ward. All because Tom was a man and his claims held all the merit that my defenses did not. And the only man who could have helped me, was dead."

Bellatrix heaves out a great sigh as if all the world's worries have left her shoulders, left her feeling empty and vacated.

You are indignant on her behalf. You want to punch Tom right in his smarmy face!

"Bellatrix, I swear to you, I am going to-"

"Hermione, what point is there to this? It's been over twenty years. There's no evidence, other than my story. Whose going to believe a patient who has been labeled crazy for so many decades anyways?" She says this tiredly, sipping on her coffee slowly.

"You're going to give up on this?" You stand up quickly, your anger at the injustices she suffered needing an outlet. "After all he did to you- he killed an innocent man!"

"I love that you care, but it's a little to late for me. All I want to do is see his stupid face one more time and punch it. That's all I'm asking for."

You sigh, run your shaking hands through your hair. You can understand why Bellatrix doesn't want to pursue something against Tom at the same time you don't. But that doesn't mean you won't do whatever you can to help her. He ruined her future...her whole future just like that...just like it was nothing. "Just...let me know if you need me to do something for you."

"Just get me in the same room with him, and I'll be good." Bellatrix offers a wry smile and then gets up. "Now, I need my sleep. It's been a long story." She ambles past you upstairs and you sit back down on your chair, rubbing your hands furiously over your face as if you can scrub the weight of Bellatrix's admission away if you rub hard enough.

You are hell bent on getting that meeting with Tom no matter the costs.

If only it was as easy done as said.

* * *

The week after passes uneventfully to your dismay. At this point you had been hoping Tom would have been in your grasp and you would have been spitting fire at him, but he hadn't responded to any of his emails, almost as if he can sense that Bellatrix has finally let the truth see the light of day. You're glad she's taking this so well, that she is being strong, but perhaps things have cooled down in her; it has been more than two decades after all. But it is fresh to you, that is why you burn so, burn with a fire that cannot be quenched.

You call up Harry to tell him Bellatrix's story and it's disappointing to see he doesn't believe a single word of it. It makes you upset and you slam your phone down to let him know how you really feel about his stupidity in being blind to Tom's ways. You do some research on Tom, trying to see if you can dig up any concrete dirt on him. But there's not much about his past, just all about his future and current achievements. Each time you see his smiling face on the computer screen you want to punch his face in.

Then you look up facts on Amycus and Peter, but for them too there is nothing much about their past and nothing to link them to Bellatrix. She's been effectively wiped out of the grad school's system like some mistake they are embarrassed of. And as for Antonin? He is dead, his death certificate checking out that part of the story. Cause of death was brutal, with several stab wounds to his chest cavity.

You get agitated at your lack of research and at how helpless you feel. You want to help Bellatrix, you really do, because it's not fair what she has suffered. But how can you when nothing useful pops up. The only thing that you can do is find Tom for her and get them to meet face to face and even that is going slowly.

You try to hide your darkening mood from her but fail to do so. She catches onto it when the two of you meet up at the park for a picnic. She's brought the blanket and wine and you've got the cheese and grapes.

"If I had known you'd brood like this than I wouldn't have told you," she said as she pulled the cork free, almost losing it by the roots of the tree the blanket was parked under.

"I'm not brooding," you shoot back.

"You are soooooo brooding," she sings back, pouring a glass for each of you. "The way your brows are furrowed and your lips are sticking out. Brooding."

There's no use in denying it, not when she knows you better than you know yourself. "It's just...doesn't the injustice eat up at you?"

"It did," she shrugs casually, wafts the wine up to her nose before taking a rich sip. "It used to drive me insane, which made people think I was actually crazy. But now...I've let it go. And it's all thanks to you."

"Me?" you blink at her, shocked. You can all too well remember her multiple outbursts when so much as a whisper of Tom Riddle was mentioned during a session. "I don't think I've done that well of a job to effectively erase so many years of hatred."

She shoots you a look you can't quite read before she splits off onto another topic. "How about I get your mind off of Riddle with something else I know you've been burning and yearning to know about me."

You frown at her topic change but you would be lying if you weren't curious as to what else she had to offer. She was a big box of mysteries wrapped up with a bow dripping in intrigue. "Like what?"

"My ex husband, Rodolphus Lestrange."

It's been so long since he's been mentioned, that you almost forgot he ever existed, ever was a part of her life. "I did want to know about him. Still do. But I have a feeling it won't be so easy to talk about him." You reach for a wedge of cheese and bit down on it.

"I've already talking to you about Riddle and the dogs, the most difficult things to ever talk about. Everything else will be easy," she assures, giving you a small warm smile. It was just mere months ago that getting anything out of her was like prying free teeth. Now, she was willingly sharing details of her life and you loved that.

"Go ahead. I'm eagerly listening."

She sits back, leans on her elbows, looks up at the clouds floating by through the branches of the tree. "I was married to him for about six years. And I only ever married him because I was desperate for love." As she talks about him her tone is even and smooth, as if she was telling a story from a book and not from her life. "I was in a bad place, as usual, when I met him. My mind wasn't right and I was weak and malleable. So at the time he seemed perfect. He cared for me, helped me through my issues. He understood me. But I was weak, not of sound mind thanks to all the drugs being pumped into my system and when he offered me an escape I took it, not knowing it was only a trap and that I was creating more problems for myself. He moved me far away from Narcissa and all those stupid doctors and soon we got married. We lived in harmony for about a year into our marriage before things took a turn for the worse. He started cheating on me, started raising his hand to hurt me. And he sucked me dry. It turned out he had only married me for the money, for my inheritance. And as the funds began to dry up he began to get more and more angry at me. He tried to get me to swindle my sisters out of money, but that was the one thing I wouldn't do. So I divorced him. There was no money to fear to lose to him, so I did it without a second thought. And then I packed my shit, slashed the tires of his car, set the house on fire, and left, never looking back."

You suck in a shocked breath at this. "Bellatrix-"

"Don't worry. The cheating greedy bastard is still alive. He survived." There's a hint of disgruntlement as she says this but no real upset.

"Do you have any happy stories?" you ask, throat dry and voice soft.

She smiles at you. "I do. You."

Those words make you ridiculously happy and you lean in to peck her on the lips. She tastes of wine and unadulterated joy.

"I want to make amends," she says when you pull back from the kiss, her eyes serious. "I want to make things right in this world, in my life. And I want you to help me."

"Of course," you nod your head. "Without question."

"I want to...I want to see my sister Andromeda."

What limited knowledge you have on her is that she's merely the middle sister of the family. The estranged middle sister. "Okay, let's do that," you squeeze Bellatrix's hand and she squeezes back, wordlessly grateful. You spend the rest of the picnic in silence, just enjoying the nature around you.

The present is looking brighter and brighter every day with Bellatrix on your side.

But as always, good things never last.


	36. Chapter 36

_Portrait of a Tragic Woman_

 _Session 36: Reconnecting Old Connections_

 **A/N: Good news, I have finally mapped out an ending to this series! The ending arc will start with the next chapter. Now I have to just write it all. I'm hoping to finish this series soon by next year.**

You begin a massive overhaul of your therapy style. You figure it's time for a change given what you've recently learned about yourself. You've never meant to do this to people, to control them, to have them eating from your palm, but you guess in a way you had meant for this to happen.

And now you were going to make amends for it. But overhauling a whole therapy style is a hard process. It's not something that can be changed like the flick of a switch. It takes time and careful consideration to make sure you aren't doing this to serve yourself again, but that this is for the better of the patients.

Bellatrix stays out of your way on such matters. She's preoccupied with setting up a meeting with her sister. First of, is finding her. Andromeda hasn't really kept in touch with any of the sisters, and now the two of you have to look for her. Luckily, Bella's got some good contacts and they make things easier. You don't think to question her methods because they're being used for a good reason, so surely, that's fine, right?

"She's in Colorado," Bellatrix announces jovially when she waltzes into your house one day. She's become...happier. She almost radiates it. It's stunning the changes that have occurred. And it is most glaringly visible in her clothing style. No longer does she wear black outfits that cover her arms and legs, but she wears purples and grays and even dark reds that show off more of her skin. When you'd commented on her clothing changing about a week ago, she had shrugged and said it was time to cast off her old self and become this new butterfly.

"So I guess we better go there," you surmise, tapping your brush to get the excess water out and dabbing more paint onto its fibers.

Bellatrix strides closer to you. "Painting me again?"

You've dug her old portrait out of the closet because it no longer suits her. The dark melancholy and anger circulating her features is gone and you need to do her justice by painting her new countenance onto it. "Yes. But I just can't seem to get your angle right." Because no matter how you add to it, there's always some essence of her that you cannot get. Some missing edge to her puzzle.

She tips her head, regards the painting. "I think it's fine. Don't beat yourself up over it, pet. We both know you do that enough about your therapy style. How is that going, by the way?" She props herself up on a stool by you and flips through the papers where Andromeda's address is printed on along with instructions on how to get there.

"It's...going, alright," you say and shaking your head, give up on the portrait once more. Maybe inspiration will strike you at a later mood. "Have you contacted your sister to let her know we're coming?"

"Yes."

The two of you are going this weekend by car. It's going to be a long trip but you don't mind. You enjoy trips with Bellatrix. You get up and start taking off your painter's smock when you notice something, or rather, a lack of it. Bellatrix is wearing a burgundy shirt with sleeves that go up to her elbows, revealing the expanse of her wrists and forearm. An expanse that had been gouged with scars. Now, they are but mere faint marks.

You grab her wrist, causing her to lose her hold on her papers momentarily. She's shocked by your sudden bold move. "What are you doing?" she asks, an edge to her voice.

"Your scars...I could have swore you had them more deeply ingrained into your skin." Your thumb runs circles over them, the skin rough but not jagged. Are you imagining things?

She lets out a little laugh. "They've always been like this. Though I have been putting on special lotion to diminish the scars so that might have something to do with it."

"Oh, okay," you blink, feeling stupid for rapidly pulling such a stunt. For overreacting. Scars couldn't just naturally fade away.

"Are you all packed?" she asks, retrieving her hand.

"I am. Are you? Or better yet, are you ready to meet your sister?" You try to shake yourself back into your normal self, pushing the scars out of your mind. Bellatrix is getting better and is feeling happier. That's all that matters right now.

Bellatrix pulls a face that lets you know exactly how little packing she has done. "I'll just shove a few things into my bag. How much do I really need for a two day trip? As for my sister...well it has been almost two decades. I'm nervous and excited but scared at the same time. I can only hope she's going to be happy to see me."

"Yes, let's hope." Because for Bellatrix's sake you want this meeting to go well.

* * *

The ride is long and you make several pit stops to refuel the car, to get snacks, to stretch your legs. Bellatrix sits in the passenger seat, windows open, letting the wind tousle her hair. Her lips are curled up in a faint smile and she nods her head to the pop music playing on the radio. You can't help but admire her, the way she's changed so much ever since you first met. She had been a dark brooding mess, closed in on herself, lashing out at anyone. But now...she was open, happier and more trusting.

You're happy you could help her. And she's helped you too, helping you to finally speak on your pained past, on your therapy, on discovering more of who you are. The two of you need each other. The two of you _made_ each other.

Conversation is sparse on the ride but not that you mind. Just sitting next to her is enough. It comforts you, soothes you. And if Bellatrix is nervous she hides it well. Perhaps she is more eager than nervous to meet her sister.

Eventually you make it to Andromeda's house, a little thing on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere. The lights are out. Is she not home? You park your car in the driveway. There's another car here, so someone must be home. Maybe the lights are off but someone is inside? It is a bit late- about nine pm. Bellatrix hops out of the car before you can even park it, and when you finally make it next to her, the door is opening.

A woman who is an exact carbon copy of Bellatrix, except with kinder features and burnish colored hair, opens the door. She stares at Bellatrix, face turning into a sheet. "No," she utters in shock and slams the door closed.

You give Bellatrix an accusing glare.

The woman has the decency to offer a sheepish look. "I may have actually not told her we were coming."

You sigh and shake your head. Honestly, the things you put up with from this woman. "Wait here, I'll do some damage control." You go to knock on the door again. Bellatrix steps back as you knock and knock and finally the door opens again, though by a margin, Andromeda peering out cautiously. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"I'm Bellatrix's.." you almost say therapist out of custom but you're no longer her therapist but something more. Still, you don't want to expose yourself as Bellatrix's girlfriend because the fact remains you are a private person and the less who know the better. "...friend," you settle on.

Andromeda's eyes widen on this. "I know what kind of friends Bellatrix has. Leave before I call the cops."

Okay, so maybe that hadn't been the best method of approach. "I'm a doctor of psychology," you blurt out hastily before the door can be slammed closed on you again. "And I'm here to help Bellatrix make amends with her family."

Andromeda pauses at this, her one visible brown eye assessing you. Behind you, Bellatrix squirms impatiently. "Amends?" Andromeda breathes.

"Yes," you nod your head, trying to come off as earnest as possible. "I treated Bellatrix off her disorders and now that she is on more mental stable ground she wishes to fix her familial relations."

The door doesn't open further. "How did you find me?"

You let out a weary sigh. "Google," you skirt around the truth because Andromeda would no doubt not be happy to hear that Bellatrix's infamous friends had been the ones to find her. This is not going how you pictured it would. "Look, may we come in? We only wish to speak to you."

"I don't know..."

"Don't you want to see your sister?"

"You and I both know how she is like, doctor." This is said darkly.

"She isn't like that anymore. Why don't you give her a chance? She's changed for the better." Really, how cruel could Andromeda be? Did she truly not wish to see her sister, especially after all Bellatrix did for her?

"She protected you from those dogs, from your father's fists. The least you can do is see her for a bit."

That finally makes Andromeda relent. She sighs, as if this is burdensome, and opens the door fully. Her hands are twisting on each other and she looks wary. You step aside so Bellatrix and her can finally see each other fully. Bellatrix too looks wary but more from possible rejection by her sister than the concept of being harmed, and they stare each other down. The scene kind of reminds you of two alpha dogs sizing each other up. But Andromeda must see something in her sister's face because she softens and relaxes.

"I guess it really is you," Andromeda says at last and strides forwards-to hug her, you think- and slaps Bellatrix across the face hard. Your jaw drops open at this. _What the fuck?_ you think and are about to go to intervene when Bellatrix laughs and pulls her sister into a hug.

"Yes, it is me," she murmurs in response and the two of them hold each other a while. What a weird relationship. Though they did come from an abusive household so it might not be such an odd thing between them. It might be the only way they know to show affection. But you're just happy that they're embracing, that Andromeda agreed to see her sister.

They pull apart and Andromeda says, "come in, you must all be hungry and tired." She leads the way into her house. It is cozy and quaint, all in warm shades of brown, tan or yellow. It is a place well lived in, and full of love. She hurries to her kitchen and begins to brew some coffee.

"Where's your husband?" Bellatrix asks as she plops down onto an armchair with a throw over it, swinging one leg over the arm of it, eyes taking in the whole of this room. Her gaze lingers on the photos on the walls depicting a younger Andromeda and some handsome man with chin length hair next to her, their smiles matching.

"At work. He's got a late shift," Andromeda said from the kitchen. You tenderly sit down on the couch, hands on your lap. This is more for the sisters and you feel like an outsider now. Perhaps you should excuse yourself? Take a nap? Yes, you may do that, you must merely brooch the topic at an appropriate time.

"Hmmm, he's a hard worker that one," Bellatrix mused. "Are you happy? Happy with the life you have now?"

There is silence from the kitchen and you wonder if the brunette will not answer but she comes out a moment later with the instant coffee and some biscuits on a tray and sets it down on the coffee table. "I am happy." And it's not hard to tell that she means it full heartedly.

"Good, I'm glad," Bellatrix nods her head. "At least one of us was." But there is no bitterness in her voice. She doesn't regret what she did for her sisters. Bellatrix was loyal. If she had to, she would do it over and over again no questions asked. You admire her for that.

"And are you happy now, Trixie?"

 _Trixie?_ you think. Is that a nickname the sisters use between themselves?

"I am, Dromeda," Bellatrix says with a wide grin as she takes a sip of her coffee. "I'm in a better place. And it's all thanks to Miss Granger here. She worked her magic on me."

Andromeda gives you a soft look before coming over and clasping your hands in hers. "Thank you. Bellatrix was suffering for the longest time. And now...now she's almost like her old self."

"And what was her old self like?" you are curious about a young Bellatrix.

"Oh, she was a handful. Mischievous and always up to no good." Andromeda says this with a fond gleam in her eye.

"I was not!" Bellatrix protested. "I was a responsible older sister. A role model."

The brunette sister merely turns to you, conspiratory look on her face as she whispers, "I still remember the time she climbed up to the top of a tree to prove to us she could and then she got stuck up there when she realized she didn't know how to get back down. We had to call the fire department to get her down."

"That did not happen! And you got into trouble too as a kid, don't forget that."

"I only got into trouble because you got me involved," Andromeda defends and the two easily fall into familiar bickering like there haven't been decades separating them. You are almost envious at their ease.

You do not interrupt them, merely munch on your biscuits as they talk about anything and everything under the sun, their words rushed as if afraid they will not be able to get everything out. Their gestures are animated, eyes lively and cheeks flushed as they talk rapidly in their seats from across each other, coffee nearly forgotten in their hands. It's almost like looking at mirror images, except one is the happier life that Bellatrix could have had and the other is the melancholy life Andromeda could have had.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you come out, Andromeda is in the kitchen again, preparing something else as a snack. You find yourself unable to hold back your curiosity and your slight bitterness towards the brunette.

"Why did you do it?"

Andromeda's shoulders tense and you think she will feign innocence but she does not. "Because I was a coward and self absorbed. I only thought of myself and not of the suffering my sister went through." She doesn't turn to you as she cuts up some fruits. "Narcissa and I both thought Bellatrix was strong enough, that she could protect us forever. But that wasn't the case. She broke down, because we were too soft. And she became like father, a product of his hatred. She began to abuse us like he did."

This is new. Narcissa nor Bellatrix ever mentioned Bellatrix becoming volatile towards them.

"Did she hit you?"

Andromeda shakes her head. "She never hurt us physically. She cared for us too much. But sometimes she would say hateful things, very hateful things. And there was something...off about her ever since the dogs hurt her. She was still our big sister but she wasn't at the same time. She loved us and wanted to protect us but I knew she wouldn't be able to, that there was some part of her that resented us for what happened to her. And I don't begrudge her that. She had a right to because we merely let her throw herself as a self sacrificing shield in front of us. Except the Bellatrix I knew would never hate us for that." Andromeda cuts the last fruit and the knife makes a thump, a noise of finality. She scrapes the fruit from the cutting board into three bowls. The scraping fills the silence between the two of you as you wait with baited breath to what Andromeda may say next.

Done, she turns to you, wiping her hands on a cloth. "That is why I am glad you were able to find the sister I knew underneath all those layers, under all her madness. I am glad you were able to rediscover her." She smiles genuinely, warmly.

"Narcissa has never said this much about her sister. She only mentioned her own guilt at her inability to protect Bellatrix better, to help her even as she paid for her therapy and other medical expenses."

Andromeda shrugs. "Narcissa was never as observant as I. She always had her head up her ass, always thought she was the center of the world because she was the youngest child."

That does not answer your question but you suppose you will not get a better response.

"Why not get in touch with Bellatrix?" You ask, still wanting to know more. "You had all this time to do so."

"I did. I did try to get in touch with her but Narcissa never would let me," the brunette sighs sadly and you start at this information. This is something you did not know either.

"How come? How come Narcissa wouldn't let you see her sister?"

Andromeda sighs here and looks tired, a drafted version of a look you have seen cross Bellatrix's features too often. "Honestly, that is something you have to ask her. Currently I am just happy that Bellatrix has finally been able to find me, that Narcissa let her free, and that you helped to heal her." Her eyes turn stern here. "But do not think your work is done. There is still much to Bella's recovery."

You nod your head. "I know." Just because one or two issues have been resolved does not mean that all the others have disappeared as a result.

Andromeda smiles and offers you a fruit bowl as an ending to this conversation.

You decline it. "The road has been long and weary and I need some rest. I'll let the two of you talk by yourselves. Surely you do not need a stranger listening in anymore."

"You are not a stranger," she says and those words echoes those of Narcissa's, the blonde having said them months ago too. They give you a strange sense of nostalgia, of deja vu. _They truly are sisters_ , you think to yourself in half amusement half something else.

"I thank you for the sentiment but I truly am tired." With that you head to the car, shooting Bellatrix a quick wave on the way out. "I'll be in the car if you need me. She nods her head and when you make it to the backseat it takes less than a minute for you to fall asleep when your head hits the seat.

* * *

You awaken to Bellatrix tapping on your window. You sit up, wiping the sleep from your eyes. A quick glance at your phone tells you that it's three in the morning. You get out the car, shivering slightly in the chilly air. Both sisters are outside now. They must be done with their talks.

"I think I'm ready to head back," Bellatrix says and her voice sounds a bit hoarse. Probably from talking too much or from emotional weight. But you won't embarrass her by asking her about it now.

You nod your head. "Okay."

Andromeda holds out a basket covered with a blanket. "Take this for the road, Bellatrix," she offers in that soft sisterly way of caring.

Bellatrix smiles and takes it gratefully. "You know I'll never say no to food." She circles around to the back of the car so she can safely stow it. You take this moment of privacy to press Andromeda on more issues. You always were superbly curious.

"Why do you call her Trixie?"

Andromeda tips her head aside, contemplates you with unreadable eyes. "Because that's who she is," is her cryptic answer. Bellatrix hops up next to her, enveloping her in another hug. "See you soon."

"You better come visit. And tell Bella she's free to come as well."

"I will do," Bellatrix pulls away. Is Bella a mutual friend of theirs?

They part ways reluctantly and you and Bellatrix get into the car, pulling away. Even then, Bellatrix waves to her sister and Andromeda waves back. Eventually when the distance grows too much they can no longer see each other and Bellatrix settles into her seat. You can't read her mood. Is she happy? Sad? "How are you feeling?"

"Surreal," she answers quickly. "I can't believe this happened. That I finally got to see her after so long. It'll probably all hit me much later on."

"How come she calls you Trixie?"

"It comes from the second half of my name- from Trix and it kind of just stuck, I suppose, because she could never say my full name when she was younger," Bellatrix shrugs. "I think I'm going to sleep," she suddenly announces and shifts in her seat so her head is against the windshield and her back to you. She just had an emotionally exhaustive day and you won't press her more. She'll come to you if she has more issues, of that you are certain.

She falls into slumber easily and you drive back home in silence, a small content grin on your face.


End file.
